


Forbidden

by vanishing_time



Category: Bohemian Rhapsody (Movie 2018) Actor RPF, Queen (Band)
Genre: Adultery, Age Difference, Alternate Universe, Biphobia, Change in Relationship, F/M, Falling In Love, Father Figures, Fluff and Angst, Forbidden Love, Jealousy, Loss of Virginity, Love Triangles, M/M, Mutual Pining, Possessive Behavior, Semi-Public Sex, Slow Burn, Summer Vacation, ish
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-12
Updated: 2020-01-06
Packaged: 2020-02-26 20:39:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 9
Words: 73,916
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18724570
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vanishing_time/pseuds/vanishing_time
Summary: What Joe and John have is much worse than a dirty little secret.It's the summer of 2000, and your best friend's teenage son having a crush on you can lead you down unexpected and forgotten roads.





	1. Clockwork Seasons

**Author's Note:**

  * For [anotheronebitesthedeaks](https://archiveofourown.org/users/anotheronebitesthedeaks/gifts).



> Totally fiction. Never happened. It's just an average Problematique™ fic.
> 
> Joe is sixteen in this story, and John is his still married godfather, and yeah, they are going to sleep together. If this makes you uncomfortable, please don't read any further.  
> Also please don't sue me, I don't endorse any of these in real life.
> 
> Many thanks to [anotheronebitesthedeaks](https://archiveofourown.org/users/anotheronebitesthedeaks/pseuds/anotheronebitesthedeaks) for the betaing.
> 
> You can find me on [Tumblr](http://deakys-chesthair.tumblr.com) too if you feel like sending an ask.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John is finally reuninted with his oldest friend's family after a few years of grief and healing.

He’s forgotten how beautiful the Italian Alps are. He hasn’t been here ever since skiing here once in the eighties with Roger’s family and his own. The air is crystal clear, and the sunlight feels like it’s kissing his skin all over, and his eyes are drinking in the sight of the vast mountain range.

God knows he desperately needs a vacation. The past few years were emotionally draining and rewarding as well; deaths and birth, friendships evaporating and forming, high and low points of a life most people only hopelessly dream about. He’s had his fair share of fame and family, breakdowns and ecstasy and even more, and he’s forever grateful for all that.

But he's really needed to get out of the country. He loves his family dearly, but he has to confess he’s missed traveling the world, and he’ll never not miss the thrill of a new landscape every day, the pulsating of a different city each night, the feel of the wind in his hair-

“John! I haven’t seen you in ages, you bastard!”

John feels a warm smile spread across his face as arms are hugging him and hands are patting his shoulders. The embrace of his childhood friend. He closes his eyes as they are tapping each other’s back.

“How long has it been? Eight years?” He asks as Joseph leads him into the living room.

He looks around admiringly.

The Mazzello’s have such a fancy weekend house here, big enough to host two or even three families. They used to hang out together here every summer for a few years, ever since Robert was a year old or two, watching each other’s families bloom and grow.

“Something like that,” Joseph says. “I could forgive you for not giving a crap about me, but you haven’t seen my kids for a while, and that’s a scandal! You should see how big they’ve gotten. Of course, I know how busy you’ve been-”

Joseph is obviously just joking, or more like half-joking, but John still feels a little bit guilty.

They have been friends since elementary school - pen pals at first, as it was really common around that time. John wanted to learn Italian and found Joseph through an organization, and the two became fast friends, wrote to each other in both languages, traded postcards, stickers, guitar picks, and eventually, Joseph’s parents invited John to their house in Milan for a week or two.

John smiles. His mother only let him go under the condition he took his sister, Julie with him. In the end, John’s whole family went, and the boys spent a few awesome weeks together after finally meeting in person.

It was not unlike how they are spending the summers together nowadays with their own children.

Of course, some things have changed. After-

They engage in comfortable talking as they sipping some juice, and they talk about fame and exhaustion and business, they talk about the past and the future, they talk about friends and life and death and family, music and dancing and engineering, and John feels like coming home to a childhood place.

He missed his friend so much, his old friend who doesn’t remind him of what he’s left behind, the friend who’s more stable than the foundations of the Earth. The one who’s so different from his adopted brothers, who’s been in his life for decades, even if not always in person. An oasis in the madness of the rock world.

“What about the children?”

“Oh, they’re all grown up, you should see them. Mary is considering going to law school, but I think it’s going to bore her brains out. But if that’s what she wants… She’s really good in playing piano as well; she adores Liszt. John is a typical teenager, doing good, he and Joe adore baseball for whatever reason…” John laughs as Joseph grimaces a bit. His friend always had a less traditional side, John would even call it feminine. He hates sports besides dancing. “They are all so beautiful, I’m incredibly proud of them, even if they are a pain in the ass sometimes.”

John chuckles. “I’m sure they are amazing. John must be, after all, he got his name after me, right?”

“Ah, you remember!” Joseph laughs warmly at him, patting his shoulder.

“I don’t think I’ve ever been that honored in my life,” John smiles back. ”And what about Joe? I saw him in that dinosaur movie but we haven’t been communicating much since besides exchanging some letters. He was really cute in the film though.”

“He did really good,” Joseph says, leaning back against the couch with a tender smile. “But it’s a hard life, you know. I had to make sure we could all spend enough time with him while filming, as a family. I wanted him to actually go on with his studies so he hasn’t been doing much acting lately. But he misses it, he’s always complaining and wants to do more, monologuing about how much he misses acting... He’s the biggest pain in the ass out of the three of them, really.”

John chuckles. “I wish I could have seen him, or all of you for that matter. But you know how things have been...”

“I know.” Joseph's voice is gentle and understanding. “And how are your two youngest? I haven’t met them yet, I’d really like to see them.”

“Oh, they are coming in a few days with Veronica. Luke was sick with this ear infection, and they are waiting until he gets better.”

“Can’t wait. I-”

There's a sudden slam of the front door, and John and Joseph both look in the direction of the noise.

“Hi, Dad!”

Flaming red hair, long limbs, a swish of green and brown colours in a pair of eyes, smell of sweat.

That’s the first impression he has, and a young guy is hurrying to them, wiping his face with the bottom of the t-shirt he’s wearing. He stops, staring down at John, his lips parting slowly.

John takes a good look at him too before holding out his hand encouragingly. “Hello.”

“Hey,” the boy says finally, smiling at him and shaking his hand. “Is that you, John? Sorry for staring. I knew you were coming but it's still surprising to see you in person, haven’t met you in a while.”

John suddenly remembers to close his mouth too as he stands up, smiling. “Hello, Joe. My, you’ve grown.”

Joe grins at him before pulling him into a tight embrace, warming up, and John briefly thinks that the straightaway Italian genes sure run strong in this family.

“You wouldn’t be this surprised if you bothered to take a peek at your godson in the past few years,” Joe says cheekily, and John is a little embarrassed.

“You’re absolutely right, and I’m-”

“It’s okay, I got _all_ your letters. Sorry for answering them less frequently, you know, shooting and everything happened and sometimes I was so busy-”

“No need to apologize, I can imagine. I was kind of busy, too.” John is still looking at Joe who’s sweating, drops dripping off his hair. He looks like he’s been running.

John might have not met him for a few years but they kept in touch, and he really enjoyed Joe’s little ramblings about school and childhood crushes and the shooting and his family life, even if they became less regular by time. Joe has turned into a teenager and he must have had his own stuff going on, more important than sending letters to his godfather.

“I really would like to catch up with you about how you’ve been.”

“I’d be glad,” Joe smiles, showing his teeth that don’t look as huge in his mouth as they used to. “Now excuse me _please,_ I'm sweating like a pig. I‘ve been biking up to these damn hills from the bus station. That's five miles, man! Almost twenty kilometers.” Joe apparently has no idea how much a mile is in normal people units, and John smirks as Joe kisses his dad on the cheek. “Love ya, Dad!”

John watches as Joe opens the glass door and sprints towards the lake, peeling his shirt off at the meantime before jumping into the water with a loud yell.

Wow.

John blinks once and kids are suddenly grown up.

“He’s grown a lot,” he says, turning towards Joseph, who still looks tenderly at his son.

“Yes. He’s taken up all these team sports, baseball and basketball, things that kids his age like. It does him good to be in school. Sometimes I think all this acting was too much for him, that he wouldn’t be able to have a normal life or that it would be too stressful. But he adores it and he seems happy, and that’s the only thing that matters.”

John gets it.

“I thought he wouldn’t be here because of a... summer camp thing?”

“Yes, he was supposed to attend one in Milan, with acting workshops and lessons about cinematic techniques, but he got bored with it after two days.” Joseph shakes his head, grimacing painfully. “He said it was ‘lame’. Lame! I don’t think he realizes how good he has it. He’s gotten a bit impulsive, you know... So he just ran away and called me about two hours ago from the bus station. He doesn’t give up until he gets what he wants, or gets rid of what he doesn’t want.”

“Oh I know, I used to deal with teenage sons. And there are two more yet to grow up!”

They both laugh. “Our Y chromosomes are quite strong, am I right?”

“Tell me about it. At least mine are scattered in time.”

“You’re really ‘prolific’, right? I’ve seen that interview too.” Joseph winks at him. ”Now, want to get a drink or two until Virginia comes back?”

John would never deny booze.

He’s still smiling as he casts a glance in Joe’s direction, who’s happily playing in the water.

 

The dinner is awesome, the whole of Joseph's family is there. Out of the three loud teenagers Joe is the loudest by far and the most flamboyant. He talks a lot and acts out little roles as he's mimicking his teacher, and another boy from his class whom he seems to hate (“he's too much like me, maybe that's why,” Joe adds).

“Joey, how come you left the camp?” Mary asks, and Joe grimaces.

“I swear, if I have to answer that question one more time…”

“Well, you haven't told _me_ yet, next time don't forget to send the memo, okay?”

Joe looks at the ceiling. “Fair enough. So, it was super lame, we had to recite stupid King Lear, and if I don’t get to play the lead role then what‘s the point? Anyway, English plays are almost always depressing and sucky — sorry, John —, and I wanna do something less tragic now-”

“Wow, you are spoiled!”

“- _and_ then to add insult to injury they made me sing a part in Grease, but have you ever tried singing with my voice? One second it screams and the next second it growls, you just can’t trust it...”

The conversation continues like that, and John feels relaxed and entertained like he hasn't been in a long time, even though he really misses Ronnie and the kids. Only a few more days…

“I think Joe leaving the camp early had to do with him wanting to see John again, right?” Virginia adds with a wink, and John just blinks at her. “Right, Joe? You wanted to see your godfather after… how many years?”

“Eight.”

“Eight.”

John and Joe say it together and they both chuckle.

“Maaaybe it had,” Joe says, and he puts his fork down. “Speaking of, I have this physics project for school which is super useless since I'm never gonna use it in my life ever again, but maybe John can help me with it?”

“Sure thing,” John smiles as Joe stands up, sipping the rest of his wine.

“Well, are you coming?”

“Joe, cut him some slack, it's late.” Joseph smiles at his son, shaking his head.

“No, it's okay.” John stands up. ”I really want to talk anyway.”

“Cool, thanks for the dinner,” Joe says to his mom, kissing her cheek.

“Who’s going to do the dishes? Don’t leave everything to Mum!” Mary acts all annoyed, but Joe just rolls his eyes.

“I swear I’m going to do them one of these days, sis,” he says, “but for now let me bond with my goddad.”

Joe ignores Mary sulking as he leaves, and John casts an apologetic glance in the girl’s direction, following Joe up to his room.

“So basically I had this thought of putting a clock together out of hard drive parts and make the clockwork myself…”

 

“More like a _cockwork_ ,” Joe mutters, leaning above the gutted hard drive. “Cockwork Orange.”

“Have you read it?” John chuckles, and Joe looks at him questioningly. “The book.”

“I saw the movie. It's so damn sick, man,” Joe says, awkwardly fumbling with the soldering iron. “Fuck, I'm too clumsy for this.”

“Here,” John says, placing his hands over Joe's to guide him, slowly melting the tin. Joe pays attention carefully, leaning a bit against John's chest like he used to when he was little. “You have to hold the iron a bit farther from the tin. That movie is indeed very sick, as well as the original novel. It’s one of my favourites, actually, but you shouldn't have seen it, it's rated X.”

“Pleeease don't tell my mom!” Joe looks at him with playfully wide eyes, and John laughs. _“‘A filthy, dirty old drunkie, howling away at the filthy songs of his fathers and going blerp, blerp in between as it might be a filthy old orchestra in his stinking rotten guts.’”_

Joe cites the quote with a quite accurate Yorkshire accent, and John is impressed.

“You know it by heart? Did you study accents as well?”

“Yeah, some. _‘I’ll stick to the bass’,_ ” Joe says in John’s accent, and John laughs, slowly shaking his head.

“Amazing. And what is the sickest movie you've ever seen?”

“Besides porn?” John raises an eyebrow, and Joe raises an eyebrow too. Sassy. “Which I, of course, can't say anything about since I'm obviously too young to have ever watched one, so I would say maybe Pulp Fiction-”

“-which is also rated X by the way,” John adds.

“Oh, don’t _dad_ me. I liked it a whole lot, the niche conversations about hamburgers made me lose it in the first five minutes. It's such a genius solution. It connects the audience to your movie by making you feel you’re a part of a conversation you’d have with your friends. Really postmodern.”

“You learned film theory too I guess? Do you want to continue filming?”

“Ah, this is lame!” Joe exclaims as he accidentally melts two cogwheels together. He gives up, throwing the soldering iron aside. “Okay, thanks for helping, but let's continue another day, okay?”

He rubs his eyes and John smiles.

“It doesn't hurt to learn these things. It's useful to be able to fix things around the house without always calling a professional. And the ladies dig that.”

Joe rolls his eyes but smiles at him.

“Yes, sir, Mr Engineer. So, to answer your question: yes, I love acting and I can't imagine ever doing anything else. It’s fun, you can meet people you could only dream about before. I also hope I will be known of something more besides being the ‘dino boy’.”

“I'm sure you will be,” John says as Joe sits on the bed with his lanky legs all over the place and pats the blanket next to him for John to sit.

It’s comforting. John was a bit worried that they wouldn’t get along - after all, Joe is twice the age he was the last time they met, and kids sure change fast. But they got attuned to each other quite quickly. Joe asks him about how he’s been doing, getting really enthusiastic to see Luke and Cam whom he hasn't met yet.

He also asks about the olden days.

“How does it feel to perform in front of thousands? I don't do stage often and usually, there are only a few key people around when we’re shooting, so I still get stage fright sometimes.“

“Oh, believe me, I never got completely used to it. But I more or less loosened up after a while, I mean about ten minutes into the concert or so. It got better by the eighties, and Freddie or Rog always encouraged me before a gig.

Joe’s eyes are twinkling, his mouth hanging open as he’s listening to his stories.

“And how are you now that you don't tour with Queen anymore? Are you keeping in touch with the rest of the guys?”

John smiles sadly.

“Not too much. They are continuing the band but I didn't really feel like it then, and I still don't. But if Brian and Rog are into it, I'm not stopping them having fun.”

Joe looks aside for a minute before talking again.

“I miss some of my friends. You know how acting is - it’s like, in the end, I have to be separated from everyone I form a connection with. Living away from home, sometimes for months, doesn't really strengthen the bond with the existing friends, and making new ones who might be from a different continent and will eventually return home is hard. I’m glad my family comes with me for shootings.”

“I understand. I think you really have to make a conscious effort to keep friendships up, and it’s not easy at all when meeting in person is impossible. I should have done the same with the boys but… I just couldn’t.”

He doesn’t know why he tells Joe that, but the boy just hums seriously.

“Are they mad at you?”

“No. Well, Roger is, I think. But no, I don’t know. They’d probably take me back if I asked. But it’s not the same without-”

He doesn’t go on. Joe opens his mouth but then closes it like he wanted to ask something but changed his mind. Probably it was about Freddie. But Joe is smart, he understands that Freddie is a sensitive topic still, and John is grateful for that.

“Are you still playing bass or anything? I used to tap around a bit but I don't really have the time and energy nowadays.”

“I doubt you lack the energy,” John laughs, “but time indeed is a difficult factor. Are you playing that one?”

He points at the picture of a guitar on the wall, a red electric Ibanez.

“That? No, that just looks good so I took a pic of it, it's a friend’s! I have a Cort at home, not a bass, but a rhythm guitar.”

“I brought a Fender with me,” John says. “I never know when I might get the inspiration.”

“Ooo,” Joe's eyes widen, and for a second, he really really looks like an over-enthusiastic fanboy. John wants to ruffle his hair, but decides that Joe is probably too old for that now. “You have to play it at the campfire one night, it would be super awesome. I'll tell everyone when I go back to school who my friggin godfather is… Well nobody will believe me but that doesn't matter ‘cause I know the truth.”

“I'm honored,” John laughs. “But I'm also proud of _your_ achievements. I saw you in a few movies. I have to admit, I got teary at Radio Flyer.”

“Oh man, me too. Professional requirement.”

“Yes? So can you cry whenever needed?”

“Basically, yeah. I just have to get into the mood for a minute and boom.”

“Wow.”

Joe smiles at him before poking him in the shoulder.

“It’s good to see you. Next time, please don't disappear for years again.”

“I'll try. But you will be on a different continent.”

“Thank God for the internet, though. Or the post office for old guys like you,” Joe winks before yawning sleepily, leaning on John's shoulder, and John lays his head on his. They stay like that for a few seconds, then Joe throws himself on the bed, and John stands up to say goodnight.

“Wanna go swimming in the morning?” Joe asks. “The colours are amazing on the lake when the sun has just risen.”

“Sure, can't wait to chill a bit. Ronnie and the kids will be here soon and that will be the end of relaxation.”

Joe grins. “Awesome. Night then!”

 

That night, John falls asleep smiling.


	2. The Unbearable Lightness of Being

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Connecting with Joe is so effortless and liberating.

John adores bright summer mornings like this. 

Back in England, even the summer can be cold, too cold for his taste. Even though he was born there, he should have gotten used to it. 

There's nothing better than sunbathing on the terrace in the fresh air with his coffee and a toast, watching the yellow morning sun glistening on the lake, painting bright little crescent moons onto the waves. He inhales deeply, the cool breeze caressing his hair. 

Joe’s already awake, having arrived back from a jog judging by the way he kicks off his running shoes and takes off his sleeveless shirt. John is watching him doing stretching exercises on the shore, surrounded by mountains and the fern forest. 

It’s so cliché that he feels like he’s in a postcard.

Joe leans down to touch his toes, then rolls on his back and pulls his legs towards his head by his knees to stretch the back of his thigh muscles.

“John!” He yells when he’s finished doing his calves as well, voice faint in the wind, waving at him. “Wanna swim? I'm going in!”

John waves back at him. “I’ll join you soon!”

Joe straight up runs to the lake and jumps in, his loud, satisfied noises echoing in the valley. The cold water must feel good against his skin after a workout. He dives under the water and jumps out a few meters farther, then he's probably standing on his hands because only his legs are visible as they are kicking the air.

John laughs at his boyish behaviour in amusement.

“Jooohn, you need a written invitation or what?” Joe shouts when he comes up, hair dripping, and John chuckles.

It’s good that he's already got his swimming trunks on, and after he's finished his coffee, he walks to the lake, looking around for Joe and finding him intently observing something in the reed, probably a duck or some other waterfowl.

John takes a deep breath and silently swims over to him underwater and grabs his calves, and Joe yelps and jumps before sinking.

“You bastard!” Joe yells when they've both come up, sneezing and shaking his head like a wet dog, but he also laughs, his hair dangling over his eyes as he jumps onto John, trying to push him under. Luckily, John is still quite fit thanks to the amount of play his kids drag him into, and he's not easy to wrestle down, not even with Joe’s limbs tangled all around him. He even holds his breath reflexively when Joe pushes him underwater for a second.

“How long can you hold your breath?” Joe asks when he releases him, a playful challenge in his eyes.

“Let’s see! Three, two, one!” John counts back, gripping his nose and diving underneath, from the corner of his eye seeing the kid do the same.

He can’t really measure the time, but by the time he comes up for air Joe is already up and panting, water dripping from his hair.

“I held it longer than you!” John laughs, a little breathlessly. It’s probably been almost a minute.

Joe looks slightly annoyed, and John really wants to pinch his disappointed face. “You cheated, you came up halfway!”

“Nonsense!”

“You did!” 

“Did not!”

“No waay!” Joe exclaims with admiration in his eyes. “How?”

“Freddie and I used to swim for a while. My record is about sixty-five seconds or so.”

“That’s an awful lot! It’s not fair, you have the advantage and the routine!”

“You're the one who wanted to compete!” John chuckles at Joe’s sulking. “Next time I’ll let you win, okay?”

“I don’t need your pity!” Joe laughs, splashing him, and John splashes him back, grimacing and sneezing when the water gets into his nose. 

Joe is all over him again, wrestling him underwater and John feels the boy’s hands trying to slide his swimming trunks off as revenge. He grabs Joe’s hands and puts them over his shoulders instead, and Joe wraps his legs around John’s waist, letting him go and lying back on the surface, floating and wheezing and grinning, closing his eyes against the sun.

There’s water gathering in his navel, drops and goosebumps on his stomach. This is almost intimate, and John finds himself grabbing Joe’s hips to help him float; but Joe lets him go after a few seconds, breathing in and just floating on his own. 

The boy’s skin is beginning to burn on the top of his shoulders, and that makes John suddenly realize how time has passed. 

“Okay, time for sunscreen,” he says after another moment of admiring the freckles and the collarbones. “I’ll race you to the shore.” 

He playfully pushes Joe away and sprints to the coast as fast as he can, and Joe, of course, follows him, yelling and laughing, trying to hold him back but John slips out of his hand.

 

By the time they get out, Joseph and Virginia have already put out the breakfast, complaining about how difficult it is since it's impossible to wake up everyone at the same time. Eventually, they’ve just decided to let everyone serve themselves, and Joseph is sipping a mug of cocoa, caressing Virginia's feet in his lap now that they found a solution.

John has changed into dry shorts and joins them at the table. Joe is already there, eating like there is no tomorrow, a huge pile of toast and ham and tomatoes and pancakes in front of him. He only stops to breathe and gulp down a mug of juice, and John just stares at him.

Wow, the boy can eat a lot.

“You’re eating up the whole household!” Mary says as she arrives, sassy as always. She’s probably just gotten out of bed, looking rumpled, her mouth is hanging open at her brother's sight, much to John’s amusement.

“I’m developing, I need the energy,” Joe says with a slice of ham hanging from his mouth.

”You’re only gonna develop sideways if you keep that up-”

“Look who’s talking, Miss Chubby Face,” Joe says, and Mary flips him the bird.

“F-”

“Please, cut it out, you two,” Joseph groans at them, apparently not awake enough for this as he rubs his eyes.

Lazy summer mornings are the best. This vacation is going to be amazing. It’s getting really hot, even here under the parasols, the air is fresh and the shades of the hills are contrasting in the sunlight. John is lusciously enjoying a second snack; playing around in the lake made him hungry as well.

John, Joe's brother has also joined them, already talking about his plans of going for a hike to a nearby hill with the huge, standalone rock on the top, his enthusiasm spreading on everyone. It’s been ages since John’s been hiking, and can’t wait to move a bit. Not that Joe won’t force him to sport his lungs out.

“Are you gonna eat that?” Joe asks, his plate empty, staring longingly at John’s leftover toast. He apparently doesn't want to eat up the whole stock of food but he still looks hungry.

“Yes, Joe. Mary’s right, you better watch out for your weight,” John mocks him, gently slapping his hand when Joe sticks his tongue out at him and tries to steal his toast.

“Hey, stop taking her side!” Joe complains when he sees Mary snickering in the background.

John laughs. Joe really is a kid still and acts like that sometimes, but it's easy to forget.

“Thanks for the breakfast,” John stands up after finishing the last of his toast, kissing Virginia on the cheek. 

“Am I not getting a kiss, you sexist?” Joseph looks at him, grinning, and John rolls his eyes.

“Fine.” He breathes a kiss on his friend’s face, too, both of them laughing. “Let me help with the dishes.”

“I’ll help too!” Joe gets up and together they pick up everything and take the plates to the kitchen.

“What are your plans for today?” Joe asks as he’s drying up the washed dishes John hands to him. 

It really is domestic. It’s only been half a day since they met again but it feels like they weren’t even missing out on years. Connecting with Joe is so effortless, so liberating.

“Well, I planned to mostly laze and read, just a little me-time, and in the afternoon... I don’t know.”

“Oh man, how boring you can be?” Joe makes a face, and John flicks some foam on him.

“Well, not everyone is running around 24/7 like you.”

“You’re such an old man!” Joe chuckles, and John playfully elbows him. 

“Have some respect for your elders!” 

But Joe continues, looking at him with twinkly eyes, watching his reactions.

“I bet you have these old man rituals too, I bet you wear chequered slippers at home-” Joe holds his hands in front of him when John pokes him in the stomach and goes after him to tickle him. “-like, old man slippers, and I also bet you collect stamps and use a magnifier and drink your afternoon tea at the same time every day and god forbid it be delayed by a minute and you smoke a pipe you inherited from your grandpa-”

Joe is now running away from him and John is chasing him around the house, laughing.

“Oh, so you think you can get away with being a stereotyping brat?” John grabs a cushion and throws it at him. “Well, I bet you smell like a baseball team, and have a poster of some mediocre actress on your wall and put on temporary tattoos that come with pop magazines and write into your diary how nobody really understands you, you poor thing-”

“Hey man, at least I don’t have to rest all afternoon after ten minutes of exercise-” Joe is behind the couch, trying to decide which way to run.

“We’ll see about that, okay?” John has to admit he’s a little breathless, but mostly of laughter, and Joe stops, bending in half as he’s struggling with laughter too.

John’s phone is buzzing in his pocket. Probably Ronnie.

“Just a sec, Joe.” He picks it up, wheezing. “Hello, wifey!” 

“Hey, hubby! How’s the bachelor’s vacation going?” 

He loves Ronnie’s voice that always makes him smile. He turns away from Joe (who looks a bit disappointed) and steps to the window, looking out to the mountains.

“Great, really great. Still so pretty here. How’s Luke?”

“He’s okay now, he says he can hear better and his ear doesn’t hurt that much, so I think we can be there in a few days-”

“Hey, Ronnie, I’m Joe! What’s up?” The boy suddenly yells against John’s ear and he almost drops his phone.

“Hi, Joe! Long time no see!” Veronica chuckles. 

“Can’t wait to see you and the kids! And Josh!” Joe keeps shouting and going after John who’s trying to retreat to a more private place in vain.

“We’ll be there soon, I promise!”

“Should I just hand you the phone?” John asks, rolling his eyes.

“No, it’s fine, talk to you later, Ronnie!” Joe yells, waving to the phone as if she could see him, and John snorts.

“Are you two getting along well?” Ronnie loves Joe too, and she hasn’t seen him in a while either.

“Yeah,” John says, smiling at his godson, “we talked a lot and went swimming-”

“I beat him in the ‘who can hold their breath longer’ game!” Joe shouts again.

“-aaand he’s a fluent liar,” John says, pushing him away.

Joe keeps interrupting his every sentence, looking extremely satisfied and happy with that. John just gives up and tries to leave, but Joe follows him, eventually forcing John to escape and lock himself in the bathroom.

“Damn, that brat can be a lot,” he sighs as Joe’s faint, complaining voice can be heard from the outside.

“I'm sure you can handle him,” Veronica chuckles, and they finally have a few minutes to talk in peace.

That is, until Joe gets bored and starts knocking on the door.

“Fuck off!” John shouts, laughing. “Okay, I think I’ll call you back later, Joe must be high on a sugar rush.

“Have fun and keep bonding!”

“I miss you,” John says between two knocks on the door.

“Miss you too. Call me tonight.”

“Jooohn, I’m bored, come out!” 

John sighs. 

He won’t go down without fighting.

Joe screams when John yanks the door open and throws a roll of toilet paper at him.

“Do I look pretty in these?” Joe asks as he ducks, with John’s reading glasses on his nose for some reason, running away from the next attack as John chases him around the house once again.

“Give me back my glasses!”

“What do I get in return?”

“I’m not negotiating with terrorists!”

“Then come and get them!”

This feels familiar.

He’s run out of toilet paper rolls and Joe stops then, panting, looking through John’s reading glasses.

“My, John, your eyesight is shitty!”

“Shut the hell up, those are only for reading,” John laughs as they are sitting down on the couch, both of them panting, and he leans over Joe to get his glasses back, but Joe holds them away.

“Now I have to wrestle you?” John asks, breathless. Damn, when did the boy grow this long arms? He finds himself almost lying on top of the kid, staring in his face. 

Did he always have this many freckles and this red hair?

“Fine,” Joe grins then, eyes deep and mischievous, putting the glasses on John’s nose.

“Thank you,” John says dryly, but can’t hide the amusement from his voice. “Will you let me live now?”

“If you read me something.”

“Read you?”

“That's what I said.”

“You won’t be able to sit through anything.”

Joe huffs. “I  _ promise  _ I won’t be annoying.”

John raises an eyebrow. "I don't believe you... but fine. What do you want me to read?”

“I don’t know. What are you reading right now?”

“That is... not for you.”

That’s apparently a red flag because Joe sits up straight, eyes wide. 

“Now I wanna know.”

Curious boy. John kind of wishes he could read him  _ The White Hotel, _ but that would scar him for life. Hell, even he has difficulties stomaching some parts. Maybe when he's older.

“Just believe me for once, it’s really disturbing. But I’m going to read you another book if you can shut up and chill.”

“I really do hope it’s not Cinderella,” Joe murmurs as he settles, patiently waiting for John to come back with his book.

He only brought three books with him, luckily, there is a lighter one - Ronnie always says he’s got a sick taste in literature, and maybe she’s right. He smiles. Joe might like this one.

_ The Unbearable Lightness of Being.  _

John quietly reads to Joe who’s curled up next to him on the couch, being amused at some parts - especially where the woman is sitting on the toilet while thinking about her husband -, sometimes asking questions about Czechoslovakia and European history. 

After a while, John realizes that the boy has become less fidgety and now is sleeping soundly. He grins, continuing the book. He’s so going to mock Joe about this when he wakes up.

“I thought he’s grown out of this puppy love.”

John lifts his head to look up at Joseph, who’s standing behind the couch, grinning down at the two of them.

“Puppy love?”

“Yeah. He’s totally idolizing you, in case you haven’t noticed. He’s been like that ever since I can remember, and he’s watched all your concerts and kept asking me about you in the past years. It’s really cute in a way.” Joseph tenderly looks at his son who hasn’t even stirred at the sound of their voices. How deep can that little redhead sleep? “After all, he could have chosen worse role models, like Ted Bundy or I don’t know.” 

Joseph pats John on the shoulder before winking at him and leaving.

John snorts, rubbing his eyes. He could use a nap, too. He puts his book down and closes his eyes, resting his hand on Joe’s shoulder, who’s still asleep, curled into a fetal position. 

 

A few days go by like this, with chatting and swimming and sauna and hiking. John's having fun, all of his hopes of this vacation are coming true. 

Even Ronnie and the kids have arrived, finally, and the already-too-intense family life got exponentially more heightened. John found himself crying with laughter at one point as he watched Joe giving John’s two youngsters a piggyback ride. The boy really seems to love Cam and Luke, and he also got them instantly wrapped around his little finger.

Joe also seems to get along well with Josh; soon after they greeted each other they were already jumping and fooling around like they just separated yesterday and not eight years ago. No wonder they get along so well, they were born in the same year after all. John smiles. What a year it was, full of baby showers and christenings and family gatherings.

Such a long time ago.

They often play Scrabble, and somehow Joe always ends up teamed up with John. John has much experience in this game from his Queen years, and Joe also has a surprisingly large vocabulary, so they often manage to beat the rest of them. 

Today is no different. John loves to sit with his arms resting above Joe’s shoulder, letting the boy do the work and occasionally helping him. It's Joe’s turn, the boy’s all focused on the game, thinking hard, and John finds himself adoringly looking at the way he bites his fingernails.

“You can put ‘flapjack’,” he whispers to Joe when he appears stuck.

“‘Flapjack’? What on Earth is that? Sounds kinky.”

“It’s an-” John can’t help but snort with laughter. “It’s a British food, like an oat bar, a cereal.”

“British English is so weird! And the food as well. Aaaand boom, I'm hungry.”

“Hey, no cheating, guys,” Mary complains.

“We’re not cheating, it’s called teamwork!” 

“It’s a cheat if you work with two vocabularies!”

“Sis, we all speak English here, I don't know what you’re talking about-”

John laughs at his enthusiasm, and then suddenly Joe has him in a firm hug, cheering.

“79 points, no one can beat this!” 

John is surprised, but he pats his back.

“No way, can’t beat these pros!” John hears Joe’s brother murmur, disappointed.

“Are you proud of me, dad?” Joe withdraws and looks at his father.

“Nice job, Joey!” Joseph says as they high five each other.

“Are  _ you  _ proud of me?” Joe turns to John after.

“I am, little one,” John says, smiling, and Joe rolls his eyes.

“I’m not little-”

“You are to me,” John pats his arm, and Joe pretends to be sulking. John chuckles. “When you were a baby, you were just enthusiastically throwing around the Scrabble letters, and when I said 'I don’t think that’s how you’re supposed to play Scrabble’ you just let out these unintelligible baby words, that was  _ so  _ cute.”

Joe looks embarrassed, but he grins. “But I’m a grown up now. Do you wanna work out with me later? To see who’s stronger? ‘Little one’, mmph.”

“Aw, did I hurt your feelings?” John coos, and Joe is pouting. “We can work out a bit if you want, though I’m afraid I haven’t done much since the eighties.”

“There’s always room for improvement,” Joe says, winking at him and turning back to the board.

John leans back contentedly. He almost forgot, but Joseph's comment a few days ago brought back his memories. Even Virginia used to joke about little Joe having the most innocent crush on him, always going after him, ever since he began to walk, ever since he first tried to pronounce John's name. 

John tenderly smiles to himself. He even remembers holding the boy in his arms for the first time, Joe's tiny, tiny hands grabbing his finger, staring at him with those huge baby eyes.

They always had this connection. John always thought about Joe like he was one of his own - sometimes spoiling him even more than his own children because he wasn't the one to deal with the consequences. He smiles as he remembers Joseph yelling “stop spoiling him!” as he flooded Joe with presents and toys. Usually, he tried to be strict with the kid for his good, but he wasn't always succeeding. After all, who could resist those big puppy eyes?

He also recalls that Joe has been always physical with him - even now he sometimes jumps in his arms even though he’s getting heavy. He’s like those large dog breeds that forget that they are not puppies anymore. Now that he thinks about it, Joseph is quite similar and always has been, ever since their childhood - Joe must have inherited it from him. 

This time is no different. He's curious, so he moves a bit farther away as a test, and Joe indeed comes after him and touches his thigh against his. He keeps talking to his brother in the meantime, so probably he doesn't even notice it.

John chuckles. It's so cute.

Joe scores again, and happily turns to John, who presses a kiss to the grinning boy's forehead.

John leans back, enjoying the sound of the kids taking the game too seriously, Joe pressed tight against his side.


	3. Toward The Floating Clouds

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's late night, and John and Joe are sharing tipsy and cozy moment on the lakeside.

Joe has developed a small ritual of working out in the evenings when they're gathered around the TV or on the patio, listening to the talking, occasionally putting his two cents into the conversation. 

Tonight it's raining, so they are all inside, the gentle splashing of raindrops infiltrating, and John is watching him, illuminated by the screen as he's doing push ups and crunches on his mat, all focused, his breathing controlled but becoming heavier and heavier.

John’s thoughts are wandering.

He always forgets how fast kids can develop. He still remembers the astonishment he sometimes felt when arriving home from touring and see Robert do things he couldn't do before, Michael using new words, Laura suddenly counting to a hundred.

Joe is sweating, skin glistening in the TV light that makes him look like his body is omitting soft radiation, and John feels his heat reaching him in waves.

His throat goes dry.

Fuck, he's getting old. Maybe that was part of the reason he wanted more children at this age, to feel young again. To get comfort after… Freddie. 

If he was honest with himself, he'd admit the other reason was that he and Veronica needed to strengthen their marriage. Touring was not easy on them, and they wanted to do it differently this time, for him to be there for the kids during their childhood.

He tightens his arm around Ronnie's shoulder who's watching the movie with half-closed eyes, cuddled against his side. He smiles, pulling her closer.

He’s contemplating life and death and love and family while going through how Joe has changed. His limbs are already growing out of the awkward lanky phase, though some of his movements still suggest a bit of being out of control as he’s learning to live in a new body. A new body with wide shoulders and long legs, long fingers and narrow hips. 

Joe grunts as he’s doing a plank, all of his muscles trembling.

A new body with bigger capacity, stronger muscles. Searching for the limits of his power, the edges of his performance, and extending them.

Joe’s face twists into a grimace of exertion as he grinds his teeth, the veins protruding on his forearms.

John swallows.

Damn, he really is getting old. He's almost fifty, and it terrifies him sometimes. But he is lucky, his father died in his early forties. And Freddie too…

He shakes his head - damn it, he's not here to be sad. Might be time for another beer. He lets Ronnie go, kissing the top of her head as she leans back against the couch.

The kitchen floor is pleasantly cool under his feet.

“John.” Joe comes after him, taking an ice tea out of the fridge and leaning against the counter as he’s wiping his forehead, gulping down half of the bottle in one breath.

“Hello, son.”

John lifts his beer, and Joe smiles as they clink bottles.

“I wanted to ask your opinion. What do you think about my workout routine? Do you think it’s effective enough?”

John smiles apologetically. “Oh, my boy, Freddie and I used to work out, but I haven’t really been doing anything recently besides a bit of swimming and football. Sometimes skiing.”

“Liar. You look quite fit.”

“The most I do nowadays is running after my kids and play football with them. But maybe I can help, only that you have to define your goals first.”

“Well,” Joe grins, scratching his nape and turning a bit pink on the cheeks and the tip of his ears. So adorable, everything is showing on his fair skin. “Uhm, there is  _ someone  _ who I, uh, you know… I wanna look good to impress. Also, I wanna be fit, for myself. That’s why I do these core strength exercises.”

John grins.

“A special someone, eh? I think core training should be enough. If I remember correctly, if you aim to build muscle mass, you have to eat more protein. I did that in the eighties for a while and it worked, but I’m too lazy for that now, besides, the diet is quite strict, I couldn’t keep it up for too long, and you’re a teenager, you shouldn't follow an adult’s plan. I’d maybe add more stretching.”

“I do stretching and also body weight training. Squats, hip raises…”

“Good for the bottom,” John grins, and Joe winks at him. “Okay then. Either that, or you can go to the gym, the machines are mostly for building superficial muscles. Those will develop your looks, but are not too good for functionality.” 

John smiles. Memories do come back after all. Memories of Freddie and him training together in Garden Lodge between recordings and touring to relieve the tension coming from within and outside of the band. 

“Thanks.” Joe pats his shoulder. ”Do you think they’ll like my body? Or am I too slim?” 

John can feel himself getting a bit pink on the cheeks. Why is he embarrassed now? He looks over the boy quickly. ”Joe… you have a nice body. Who wouldn't be interested in you?”

Joe smiles. “It could be better, but at least my skin is not too bad for my age.”

John stares at his face before chuckling. “Damn right. Lucky you!”

Joe points at a pole installed above the door into the frame. “Dad put that up so we can do pull-ups. Can you show me how to do them correctly?” 

John scratches his head, looking at the bar.

“You think I can do it, let alone properly? It’s been quite a while.” 

“It’s like riding the bicycle, you never forget it! Use your muscle memory," Joe grins.

John takes a deep breath and he reaches up.

He’s still got this. 

He pulls himself up until his chin reaches the bar. Damn, it’s harder than he remembered. It really was a long time ago.

He repeats it a few times, not without groaning and sweating, and the beer doesn't exactly make it any easier, but Joe looks at him like he’s a superhero.

He lets go after a while, panting but satisfied. Joe is reaching for the pole now (he has to jump a little because he’s shorter, how sweet), and tries to pull himself up.

“Pinch your shoulder blades towards each other,” John says, holding him by the hips as the boy is struggling, kicking his legs. “Keep your body tight. Lower yourself slowly.”

Joe snorts breathlessly at his own awkwardness but manages to pull himself up three times with John’s help. He jumps down, leaning into his godfather’s arms.

They laugh contentedly together, John’s heart easy as he sees Ronnie signaling thumbs up to them.

 

He always has fun with Joe, even though he can be really fed up with him when the boy acts over the top.

Like now in the car, on their way back from the grocery store with Luke and Cameron, Joe and his siblings and Ronnie, with John driving. 

Joe’s wanted to get hamburgers, and the kids got all caught up on the idea and now they are screaming, the teenagers encouraging them.

“McDonald’s! McDonald’s!” The children are yelling and Joe’s yelling too, banging the seat, all of his teeth showing in his mouth. 

What’s even worse is that Ronnie is encouraging them too. 

It’s been going on like this for fifteen minutes, and John is already at the edge of a breakdown. Apparently his limit is four teenagers, two children around eight and a wife who wouldn’t take his side. And his three biggest children didn’t even come to this vacation, busy with their own lives and families. What a day.

”We’ve just bought food for the whole week!” John already knows he’s outnumbered and lost the battle, but he isn’t going to give up that easily. He doesn’t want the kids to eat junk food all the time. At this point it’s a matter of principle.

“Believe me, it won’t last for a week,” Joe murmurs.

“Well, not if you keep eating everything up!”

“John, stop mocking your brother!” Ronnie scolds them, but she’s grinning as well, swiping her hair out of her face. 

Joe flips the older boy the bird. “ _ Et tu, Brute? _ If you were working out too instead of just lazing all day, you might be needing more energy-”

“Hamburger! Hamburger!” 

Luke and Cam’s velociraptor screeches are just spicing for the noise. Two screaming little dumplings of death, and not for the first time John considers a vasectomy. He has patience with the kids, but adding Joe to the mix doesn't help.

“I could use some frappé too, honey.” Veronica says casually, patting John on the shoulder.

“Milkshake! Milkshake-!” 

Mary is joining the chanting too, blowing her bubblegum.

“Joooohn, come ooooon-”

“Uh, okay,  _ fine!” _

John pulls over to the nearest McD when he can't stand the noise anymore, his ears aching. 

He smiles at the cashier, sweetly like honey vinegar. 

"One black coffee please!"

All the kids scream.

“Nooo way!” Joe adds, exasperated, and John high fives Ronnie after she’s finished curling in half with laughter.

"Make it two," John tells the cashier, rubbing his eyes, but can't help but burst out in laughter too.

"What an absolute bastard you are," Joe says, looking at him with an admiring grin on his face.

“Fine, what do you all want?” 

His eardrums might give up from the volume of the cheering.

 

In the afternoon he finally has a moment of peace and quiet, just for himself. Just his Kundera and his Discman and a nice juice, all chill and relaxed in a hammock, enjoying the sun and feeling like a boss.

That is until Luke and Joe sneak over to him and squirt him with a water gun.

He swears he has a fucking heart attack. He yelps and jumps, his shirt sticking to his body, throwing his book and Discman in the hammock while the boys are rolling on the grass with high-pitched laughter. Bloody hell.

“Oh, you want to play rough and tough?” John barks before running into the house and grabbing the biggest water gun he could put his hands on in the store, filling it and running after Luke and Joe, chasing them around, making them scream and soaking wet. The others come out at the noise, and soon John and Josh are teamed up against Joe and the two lil kids, and against John and Mary.

“Sunscreen!” Joseph bellows at them when they are all soaked and dripping, a little bit angry when Joe splashes him too in the face with his gun. “And cut it out, Joe, I’m trying to parent here!”

“I don’t need that cream, I sweat under it!” 

Joe really really does act like a child sometimes. John smirks. Time to help Joseph. 

He gently pats Joe on the shoulder which is already red from the previous days’ sunlight, and Joe hisses.

“See? You do need it, boy.”

"Help me out here, Ginnie!" Joseph says to his wife, who's balancing a huge flagon of lemonade on a tray. 

“Maybe you help me out here, hm?" she says, and Joseph takes the tray from her hand. "Joe, you big baby, listen to your father!”

“Which one?” Joe looks from Joseph to John and back, and John smacks him playfully.

“We don’t want to listen to you whining all week about your burnt skin so come on now.”

“Fair enough.” Joe takes the bottle from his dad and hands it over to John. “But only if  _ you  _ do my back,” he whispers to him, and John blinks, trying not to get flushed. 

But Joe’s already turned his back towards him, and John spurts a generous amount of sunscreen on his hands and gently massages it onto him, careful of the burnt parts.

He’s acutely aware of every bone, every sinew and muscle under the freckled, pink skin, and he finds himself lingering more than necessary at certain points. The sharpness of Joe’s shoulder blades under his calloused fingertips. The gentle ridges of his spine, the narrow waist…

Joe is practically purring under his hands, and John only realizes it when the sliding of his hand becomes dryer, and his youngest son is tugging on his shorts.

“Daaad, can we climb that tree?”

John snaps out of his daze. He leans down to Cam’s level. “Only if you put sunscreen on your face, little one.”

Cam pouts. “I don’t wanna, it's sticky!”

“You know it’s important,” Joe leans down as well to gently pat the boy’s head. “See, my skin needs it too. If you let me put some on you, I’ll climb the tree with you, and you can choose a movie to watch in the afternoon, okay?”

“...okay!” Cam smiles a toothy smile as Joe draws stripes on his face.

 

It's late, and John is sitting on the lake shore, the cool night fresh on his sweaty skin.

What a day this was. He’s never felt happier.

The youngsters have been put to bed and the grown-ups have been drinking a bit, and since the bigger kids wanted to have fun too, they've been let stay up a little longer. Not that there was a choice since all four of them are at the age when they are impossible to keep in hands, and you can only hope that you raised them well enough not to do stupid things.

John’s really missed Ronnie, even though they’ve only been apart for a few days. After having a few drinks and going through Joseph’s CD collection he found himself dancing to Abba - ah, the nostalgia - in the middle of the half-lit living room with Ronnie wrapped tightly around him. It almost felt like the discos of his late teen years, with the faint voices of Joseph and Virginia flirting like newlyweds a little farther, the loudness of teenagers playing Twister in the background, and he inhaled Ronnie's perfume and her faint scent of summer sweat like a drug. 

“I think Joe has a little crush on you,” she whispered in his ear, and John remembers his own snickering. Ronnie really has a sharp mind - one of the things he loves about her.

“You remember he's always been a bit like that. Joseph said he’s idolizing me,” he chuckled, kissing her face. 

“It’s pretty obvious,” she said, running her fingers through his hair and smiling, and John stared mesmerized at her lipstick. “He’s really affectionate. Do you two get along well now that he's bigger?”

“Yes, thankfully,” John said, casting a glance at Joe’s direction, who was laughing like crazy as he was trying to get out of the twisted position they were tangled in with John and Mary. “Ginnie says I'm lucky that he’s not mad at me for not visiting.”

“What do you think of him?”

“He’s eager to learn, sweet and good with the kids, but Joseph’s right, he can be a  _ lot.  _ What do  _ you  _ think of him? _ ” _

“That they are both right,” Ronnie said, smiling at the teenagers when she was turned by the rhythm and facing them. John bent her backward, and Ronnie chuckled as she was letting him hold her by the waist for a second.

It was a great dance with the most amazing partner he could ask for, but he became really thirsty for some water and some fresh air. 

He excused himself from Ronnie with a kiss to sneak out for a walk.

“I might not wait for you, I'm super sleepy. And tipsy,” she said and he nodded.

Now he's outside, he’s found a spot where the lights of the house are hidden by a tree and the hill, where he can see the stars more or less well. 

He faintly smiles. 

When Queen was just a bunch of young men barely in their twenties, they used to spend weeks working together and just enjoying each other’s company at night, chilling and drinking. Brian would often take out his laser pointer to show them constellations, talk about interplanetary dust, and Freddie would encourage him to talk, like the good big brother he was. Then they would eat snacks by torchlight, and Roger would mock Brian's enthusiasm and Brian would smack Roger’s shoulder and yell at him, and while they were busy, Freddie would take John’s hand in his-

He hears blunt footsteps, and a dark figure is approaching him.

“Hey, John.” Joe seems tall from this angle, his hair a weird colour in the night. “‘Sup? Can I sit with you?”

John smiles. He really is glad that Joe is here.

“Sure.” He pats the grass and the boy hops down next to him.

Joseph has strictly forbidden his children to drink anything alcoholic, but John’s pretty sure Joe smuggled a beer when nobody was watching. He caught a glimpse of the kid hiding a can under his shirt and sneaking out to the patio, and John snickers at the memory.

“Whatcha thinkin' about?” Joe asks, maybe he’s a bit tipsy too like John, and John giggles at nothing in spectacular. Joe looks at him, lips curving into a smile as a sheer reaction to the sound. “Hmm?”

“You know,” John says, “just… things… The past and all.”

“Ah, the past is good,” Joe says, nodding seriously, and John is surprised that he can keep a straight face.

“I was thinking about the old days of the band, when Brian went into astrophysicist mode and showed us the stars and things like that.”

“What else did he show you?”

“Well, he had a telescope and we could see the tiny Jupiter with it, and sometimes even the rings around the Saturn. I think you might even see the Saturn with bare eyes… over there.”

“Which one is it?” Joe leans close to him, popping his chin on John's shoulder. He's probably squinting with an eye to follow John's finger pointing at a faint light.

“See?”

“Yeah, I think.” Joe's breath smells like beer indeed, and John chuckles. He remembers the biggest thrill of the teenage years: drinking without getting caught. He almost envies that innocence.

“Have you ever seen the zodiacal light?”

“No. The what?”

“It's a milky glow, similar to the Milky Way, but more like a cone of light with the sun at the centre. You can see it before sunrise. We can try to catch it one day while we are here, but we have to get up early for that.”

“Must be pretty, I’d like to see that. If you can drag me out of bed,” Joe smiles.

They are looking at the sky silently until John points up again.

“There is a satellite.” 

“Where?”

“That small point. That's moving slowly, slower than a shooting star but steadily. There are more, and one of them is the International Space Station.”

Joe hums. “Where they wanna send people to live and do measurements?”

“Wow, you know that? They'll do experiments that need low orbit conditions… Space medicine, meteorology, things like that. You know, I wanted to be an astronaut when I was little. I heard about Gagarin and I admired him so much, little me used to stick to the TV screen whenever there was a broadcast and read about him in the papers. But you have to be physically and mentally fit as well.”

“I wanted to be a pilot. There’s something thrilling about heights,” Joe smiles. “They’ll only take professionals to the space station, right?”

“Yes. If I hadn't found the band, I might be working up there,” John smirks. He knows he sounds like a daydreamer, but Joe doesn't judge.

“Could I go up though? Maybe if I paid for it.”

John chuckles. “You’d have to pay a loooot.”

“I'll have money when I'm a famous actor and director. I'll go up and take you with me.”

John smiles warmly at how childish Joe sounds now. “That is very sweet of you.”

Joe's inching even closer now and leans against John's side. It's serene and calming. They both have booze in their system, and they sit in comfortable silence for minutes, listening to the cicadas.

“You're smart.” Joe's voice is low, as if not wanting to ruin the moment. “You can talk about anything and you know many things.”

“You’re way too smart too, and I like when kids ask a lot,” John chuckles. “But thank you. I had the time to read a few books over fifty years.”

Joe giggles. “You're not fifty yet.”

“No. Next year.” There's some melancholy in his voice. Damn. Time flies so fast.

“Are you sad about it?”

“Well… a bit. But mostly it's just weird to think about it. In my lifetime we went from black and white televisions to space stations and the internet. Truly amazing in just a lifespan.”

“Mankind, eh? But you don't look fifty. You're attractive still, so don't you worry.”

John is confused for a second about the compliment before he decides Joe is just tipsy and has a loose tongue. 

“Thank you. It's an honour to hear it.”

Joe stares at him without blinking, and John looks back at him questioningly.

“Can you show me your favorite constellations?” Joe asks after a pause.

“Sure.” John looks at the sky again, searching. “There is the Cassiopeia, that W-shape.” Joe is following his arm again, his chin pressed to John’s shoulder as he's drawing the shapes. “There is the Big Dipper or the Plough, I'm sure you know it… It has funny names in many languages. Laura said it looks like a baby carriage. There's the Cygnus or Swan… the Leo… that's my sign… the Virgo, that's yours.”

Suddenly Joe's breath is on his face, freshness under the scent of beer.

John turns to Joe, briefly noting his star-colored skin and night-shade hair.

“Hmm?” He asks, eyebrows raised. It's calm, like the silence before the storm.

Cherry lips and freckles. 

“You really do know everything.” Joe is looking at him with wonderment, eyes moving over John's features, up and down before settling on his mouth. “You're clever… and handsome.”

Glistening, wide eyes, dark in the shadows.

“What are you doing?” John asks, somehow not here, watching from the outside as Joe gently twists a lock of his grey hair around a finger.

“What I've wanted to do for ages.”

Joe leans in, his eyes closing, and it's like in slow motion, John can stare at him for a few seconds before his instincts kick in, and he turns his head away so the boy's lips only catch his jaw.

It burns. It burns so good.

Joe stays still as if not realizing yet, his lips slowly caressing John's face.

Soft…

“Damn.”

Joe says this in the end, almost casually as John pulls away, his palm pressing against Joe's shoulder softly but firmly.

John's calm. He's calm, even as a part of him is screaming inside. He doesn't understand what.

“All right, Joe, time for bed-”

“Your bed or mine?” Joe is breathing into his neck, trying to get closer, even as John is steadily pushing him away.

John chuckles, ignoring the pang of… something in his guts. He's not shocked, not yet. It's okay. It's only alcohol.

“You're drunk, you're acting silly. Go get some sleep.”

“I'm not drunk.”

“Yes, you are-”

“I shaved today. Feel it.” Joe takes his hand that's pressing on his shoulder and brings it to his face, and John is staring mesmerized, surprised by the randomness of it.

His skin is indeed incredibly silky…

John's drunk, too, his reflexes are slower than normal. He has a good few seconds to touch and admire Joe's skin, his thumb hovering over the boy's plump bottom lip for a moment, his breath warm and damp-

He pulls his hand away and stands up.

“All right, kiddo, come on now-”

Joe grabs his arm to hold him in place; and John stops, just standing there, searching Joe’s face.

_ What's gotten into you? _

“Do you think I'm stupid, John?” Joe's voice is slightly trembling as he looks up at him, but he sounds sober. “You think I'd take this risk if I didn't notice the way you look at me? You want me, you might not have realized it yet but I know.”

This is madness. He must be dreaming.

John’s eyes are narrowing and going cold as he's staring down at the kid.

“You’re hallucinating. I'm your  _ family, _ stop making a move at me, this is crazy. I'll pretend this never happened because you're drunk but this better be the last time.”

“We're not related.”

“Jesus Christ, Joe… You're a kid!”

“I'm over the age of consent!”

“I'm  _ married!” _

Joe also stands up, still not letting his wrist go, but John simply twists it out of his hand. They are staring at each other, Joe's body radiating heat in the cool night. 

“Don't you want me?” 

“Of course not, what the hell!” John is not even blinking.

“No?” Joe steps close, so close as if he might want to hug him, but he just presses up against him. “Then why are you hard? I can feel it.”

John stumbles back like he touched an electric fence.

Shit.

Shit.

He didn't realize it at all, but the boy is right.

“You're not feeling anything. Touch me again like this and I swear-”

“You'll do what?”

Joe has a challenge in his eyes, with only a hint of insecurity under it as if it was only painted there by the lack of light.

John clenches his teeth.

“Then I won't contact you ever again. Don't test me.”

Joe stands there, stunned, and John has to swallow to control the unexpected arousal that so scares and angers him now, but his jaw is clenched and he doesn’t look away.

“I'm sorry,” Joe says after a tense pause, defeated. He steps back and turns aside, and John exhales slowly. 

He gestures with his head.

“Just- go to bed. It's past midnight.”

Joe looks at him for a second with a wrinkle between his brows before nodding.

“G'night.”

“Night.”

John stays there for a while, just staring into the dark after Joe’s silhouette.

Goddamn.

He takes a deep breath, trying not to think too much of this, trying not to panic. He's willing his hard-on away.

He can't believe it. 

How long has Joe’s attraction for him existed for? Since the first time they met this year? For how long has Joe been fantasizing about him? 

And for how long has he himself been fantasizing about Joe? What did Joe notice on him? Jesus, what did the others notice on him?

He runs his fingers through his hair, sighing and shivering. This is crazy, insane.

_ He was drunk. He was drunk. _

But what Joe said was too coherent to be mere inebriated talk.

He walks back to the house like in a dream, staring at the silver grass, the dark spots of shadows. 

He takes a quick, cold shower, stopping in front of the mirror to observe his face, his body like he's never seen himself before.

_ Is this what Joe wants? _

Veronica is already half-asleep in their bed, her hair almost white in the stripe of moonlight shining through the windows, and John is curling against her, breathing in her familiar scent. 

She turns towards him, her arm draping over his waist like it always did. It's calming. The security and familiarity of the decades spent together through the ups and downs.

In sickness and in health.

Home.

He sighs, slowly relaxing his body, and the tension is dying down, the memory almost fading.

“You're burning,” she whispers, her hands gently clawing him under his shirt, her forehead pressed to his. He hears the unsaid question, a question of ‘are you okay?’

“Too many drinks,” he murmurs back, legs entwined with hers.

How he wishes it was only just that.

Ronnie's lips are touching his, the soft kisses turning more eager, and he gives in to the sensations. So delicious, so sensual. 

He manages to forget that star-colored skin.


	4. Shine On You, Crazy Diamond

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Joe is extremely hard to resist, especially when he comes for John with the heavy weaponry.

The next morning while dressing John finds a note with a scribble on it.

In his fucking slipper.

_Forgive me for last night’s thing. There’s this guy I have a crush on and you remind me of him. I have no chance with him and I was drunk, it won’t happen again. I’d tell you this in person but I’m too nervous to face you._

He stares at the piece of paper for a while, half of him relieved. The other half is…

The memories come surging back to him.

The softness of Joe’s lips on his face. Joe’s husky voice as he asked him to join him in bed.

John’s cheeks are burning like he’s just witnessed something obscene. He takes a deep breath, washing his face, looking into the mirror.

He doesn't know what to do. He doesn't think he’s ever been this confused and puzzled in his life.

_Relax. You’ve got this._

Joe hides behind a book he’s reading when he sees John joining them at the table _(Nineteen Eighty-Four. Good choice)_ , and he would laugh at him if he wasn’t feeling so weird.

The breakfast is quite tense between them, neither of them seems to want to talk. Thankfully the others do, so much and so loud. Joe is clearly uncomfortable, he just stares at his plate, not eating as much as usual, and John also thinks his coffee tastes funnier than it should.

There are way too many people around for him to be able to talk with Joe in peace, and he wants it as much as he’s terrified of it.

He looks up at the sound of Virginia’s voice.

“Are you okay?” She asks, not John but her son, and Joe weakly smiles up at her from his omelet.

“It’s nothing, just didn't sleep too well.”

“Constipated?” Mary asks him, her green eyes shining mockingly.

“Fuck off.”

“Joe,” John asks, and the kid twitches before turning to him. Damn, the tension is intense. He wonders how many of them noticed it. “Want to work out today?”

Joe seems embarrassed, judging by the way his eyes are moving to and away from John’s face, but also hopeful, and John looks at him encouragingly until the boy loosens up, a faint smile spreading on his lips.

“Sure.”

The awkwardness fades a little, but Joe still doesn't talk much. John suspects it’s because he’s still ashamed.

He himself is still confused about last night. He’s sure Joe wasn’t as drunk as he tried to convince him, but he decides to let it go. Besides, why would Joe lie in his note? The boy looks really regretful, fidgeting with his mug and picking at his food with his fork, and John thinks talking it through would help.

He manages to eat his breakfast and chat a little with everyone.

Later that day, after lunch he’s approaching Joe, who’s chilling on the terrace, scrolling through a teen magazine, probably trying to pick up some Italian words. John peeks at the title. _Rockerilla._ Funny name for a metal magazine.

“Can I sit with you?”

Joe has uncertainty in his eyes, but he nods, moving aside to make space for John.

John hops down, opens his Kundera book and starts reading.

He manages to get through one and a half paragraphs before he can’t take the tension anymore. Joe is like a stretched bow, squirming awkwardly, and John can practically hear his heartbeat.

He sighs and puts down his book.

“Listen… about last night,” he starts, and the boy is shrinking under his gaze. “Joe, I’m not mad at you, okay? I promise. You don’t have to be so nervous.”

Joe turns scarlet, but he whispers "cool". John continues.

“I admit it was… weird, but if it was the only time, I won’t bring it up ever again.”

“Thank you.” Joe’s voice is thin, but he manages to force out a weak smile. “Sorry.”

John ruffles his hair.

“Okay. So, wanna tell me about this crush of yours?”

“Oh, he’s…” Joe murmurs before pausing. “Maybe another time, okay?”

He leans against John’s shoulder for a second before picking up his magazine, and John continues his book.

They read in silence, shoulder to shoulder for a while.

“You speak Italian?” Joe asks at one point, and John scratches his head.

“I could, an awful long time ago…”

“You should practice with Dad,” Joe says, pointing at the title of an article. “What does this word mean? I get this article’s about the incident at Nova Rock-”

“Hey, boys,” Virginia appears above them with a bright smile. “Look what Mary found! I thought you should go through it together.”

“Moooom-” Joe hides his face in his hand as John realizes it’s an old photo album.

Joe curls into a ball as his mother and his godfather are going through his old baby pictures, both of them giggling.

Baby Joe in a small bathtub.

Baby Joe holding a lil spoon in his hand, his face smeared with fruit puree.

Baby Joe piled up with his siblings in an inflatable pool.

Baby Joe on his first day of kindergarten with a huge teddy bear.

John is grinning like he won the lottery.

“Look how tiny you were!"

Joe groans.

“Oh my god, I’m holding you in my arms in this one!”

Joe peels his hands off his face as he takes a look.

There's a picture of a slightly-older-than-a-newborn Joe in John’s arms, taken inside of a church at Joe’s christening, and John smiles tenderly at it. The little loaf that Joe is doesn’t seem pleased by the cold water poured on his head, but John is holding him with a glowing, proud smile, surrounded by happy parents and a smiling Veronica.

“Wow, you had so much more hair back then.”

“Joe, don’t be an ass.” Ginnie just rolls her eyes.

John elbows him in the ribs. "You won't have this much hair one day either."

“Nice poof though,” Joe grins. ”And what a nice, funky shirt! Were you always this of a fashion icon?”

“Were you always this snarky?”

Ginnie throws her hands up in the air with a swoosh. “I’ll leave you two alone, have fun roasting each other.”

John flips enthusiastically through the album. “You used to follow me all the time and ask the most ridiculous questions. But when I wanted to put sunscreen on you _I_ had to chase _you_ around. Not much has changed, eh?”

Joe huffs. “You’re such a dad, with your stupid dad trainers and dad sweaters. And reading glasses. And old man cologne.”

“But you like me like this, don’t you?” John asks, and Joe slowly grins at him with a one-sided smile.

“Yeah.”

 

The parking lot is loud from their arguing.

"You told me to release the clutch!"

"Yes, but slowly, and don’t yank the gear like gutting a chicken!"

"You didn't tell me to go slow!"

"Yes, I did, about three times, if you were paying attention-"

"Uh, _fine,_ let me try it again!"

John sighs, leaning back. "Try it, okay, but please don't smash the bodywork! I swear to god you are so snatchy-"

"Well, I guess you were _born_ with this knowledge, unlike some of us, so bear with me!"

"Okay, okay, so, just turn the key and release the brake! Yes, good, like that."

"'With my hand on your grease gun'," Joe hums as he concentrates on starting the car slowly, and John grins and hums back, paying close attention to Joe's foot on the gas.

"'It's like a disease, son'."

Their little driving lesson doesn't go that bad after John calms down and Joe begins to gain his confidence.

"I feel like driving to the supermarket already."

"I know trusting your abilities is an important factor in learning, but in Italy? Without a driving license? No way I'm letting you."

"You're such a killjoy."

"It was your first lesson! Don't rush it."

"Fine, but I get to choose the music," Joe says as they switch seats.

The car ride to the grocery store feels endless. Joe is loudly chewing his gum, twisting the buttons of the radio, and John resists the urge to simply smack his hand away when he tunes to a pop station.

John hates Britney Spears.

“Are you really into that music?”

Joe blows a bubble in John’s direction. “Come on, goddad. There’s good music after the eighties as well. I know you helped to shape rock but you just have to listen to some silly little shit every now and then.”

“But what is this? ‘Oops, I did it again?’ Really?”

“The girl makes guys go crazy for her and can’t even help it, what a queen! Also, she saw Titanic way too many times and I find the reference funny for some reason. Don’t act like a grumpy old man. Be open!”

“Whatever.”

“Or should I just put on ‘Misfire’ instead?” Joe says, lips trembling form restrained laughter, and John flips him the bird, smiling.

Thank god it seems like everything has returned to normal between them. Joe is singing really flatly while drumming on the car door, and John finds himself also wiggling his fingers on the steering wheel, fueled by Joe's cheerfulness.

They arrive at the mall. Joe is already out by the time John turns off the engine, climbing onto a cart that someone left on the side, strolling around on it before almost crashing into a red Volvo.

John wonders how come Joe has so much energy. He remembers the time when he was still energetic, too. Must have been in the early sixties.

He sighs.

“It’s broken!” Joe pushes the cart aside and grabs John’s hand to pull him into the store.

“Do you have a fifty lira coin?” John asks, searching in his wallet, but suddenly there are arms around his chest, and Joe is breathing “I do” into his neck.

John freezes, almost dropping the wallet.

Joe is hugging him from behind, and for a second, for a blissful, ignorant second John can believe this is just an innocent display of affection. Joe is holding him, which can be seen as familial tenderness if one was just looking over them. They almost look like father and son.

But time stands still as Joe’s hips are pressed against his backside, Joe’s hot, cherry scented breath and the wet swirl of his tongue tickle his neck, and suddenly all of John’s nerve endings are on fire and his chest is tightening and he’s covered in cold sweat, he’s panicking and he feels his anger flare up, with a way too familiar _other thing_ underneath-

A small, rational part of his mind is still watching them from the outside.

That part of his mind tells him to act calm as he slowly peels Joe’s arms off himself.

That part of his mind is listing the bystanders. A couple with a baby, a girl texting on her phone, a guy with a Discman looking for a basket. No one's giving a damn.

How is it possible that the world doesn't come down in flames?

He turns towards Joe, who pulls him into a darker corner by his hand, all big-eyed and innocent.

No, John is not going to play his game.

“Stop it,” he says.

Joe is smiling a bit, and John has to fight the urge to send him to hell.

“Nope. Hug me back.”

The bigger part of his brain is screaming things at him, sending fireworks all across his body.

“I’m not hugging you. Get in the store and let’s do the shopping, and then we can leave and behave like two normal people.”

“The shopping can wait. I want a hug. What's wrong with a hug?”

John's getting desperate and confused. His voice is low and tense. “You just licked my fucking neck! What makes you think you make the rules? What makes you think I even want to touch you?”

Joe looks at him like he’s talking gibberish. Like he can’t imagine John not wanting to touch him.

"I— I know you want to touch me, take me.”

John rubs his jaw helplessly.

"You said there was this crush of yours-”

Now Joe has pity in his eyes, like he expected better from him. “It’s you, silly.”

Unbelievable.

John gapes at him.

“Seriously, Joe… just damn you. I offer to spend time with you so you don’t feel awkward and uncomfortable for trying to kiss me, and now you-"

Joe looks around before stepping to him again, putting his hands on John’s shoulders and whispering in his ear. “I know you’re thinking about me as much as I think about you. I can see it. I can feel it.”

No, no, no. John’s whole body is tensing.

“You don’t know what the hell you’re saying. You’re my godson. Leave me alone and get inside, now.”

Joe just straight up turns and enters the bathroom nearby.

John must have switched to parenting mode automatically because he also finds himself in the bathroom, looking stupidly into the mirror, the utter horror on his face sobering him up a bit. He sighs like he’s run a marathon, his fist loosening around his wallet. He washes his hands and his face and rubs his eyes.

Fuck. He tries not to think about it. He tries not to think about Joe’s bubblegum smell. About how his smirking, plump lips would taste like.

Joe steps out of one of the stalls and also washes his hands.

Silence.

“You touched her last night,” Joe says casually, soaping his hand so intensely as if he were digging around in the dirt. “I heard the sounds of you two fucking.”

John can feel the red fog coming down at him again. Damn this brat. He takes a breath, his experience with teenage sons kicking in for a second. He hears his own voice, sharp and cold, like Joe’s.

“That’s none of your business. Stop eavesdropping.”

“Maybe you should tone it down a bit since your room is next to mine. Was it good?”

"You're being a bastard. Stop." John’s voice is like ice, warning and dangerous.

Joe doesn’t mind that at all. He rinses his hands.

“I wonder if you pretended that she was me. 'Cause I did, I imagined that you're grunting into _my_ ears like that. I wonder if you just turned her around and imagined-”

He shouldn’t let himself be provoked by a brat, but his traitor brain just laughs at him as he’s pushing the boy into the stall and slams the door closed. There's a flash of fear in those green eyes, that bitter grin evaporates under John’s gaze.

He has Joe pressed against the wall, and he’s watching Joe’s features, sharper than when he was a child. His nose is longer, his jaw is more prominent, his brows are thicker. His eyes have more depth, speak of more experience.

He’s not a kid anymore.

The small, dark part of John’s mind just takes over the rest of it in a flash.

“More respect, boy!” He hisses, pressing on Joe’s shoulders harder than he wanted to, but Joe is struggling instinctively and he’s stronger than John expected. He has to put his whole body weight into the squeeze.

“I can fuck you better than her.” The glimpse of fear has gone from Joe’s eyes, and he’s looking at him with unabashed lust in his dilated pupils.

“Why are you provoking me?” John is sneering now.

“You know why-”

“Tell me.” John pushes at him a bit more.

“Because I—” Joe stops, his mouth gaping as the air is forced out of him. “I want you—"

Like he knows what he's talking about!

“Yeah? And what do you want from me, huh?” John’s voice is low now, he suddenly realizes they mustn’t be loud. There might be people around.

Joe looks at him like he was the most perfect person on Earth.

“Everything.”

_Everything._

The word makes him dizzy. And angry. And amazed. This boy can’t be this stupid.

"Are you crazy? I'm a married man. I have children older than you, do you think you can just come and turn my life upside down? I can’t give you what your insane hormonal brain desires, it’s impossible, and I don’t want to.”

Joe's eyes tell him that he doesn’t believe him. John can’t blame him.

He hardly believes himself.

But Joe relaxes as if his words have just reached him, sadness and realization in his expression, and John loosens his grip on him, exhaling slowly.

Then he's immersed headlong into that green, green gaze as Joe suddenly stands on tiptoes and his mouth covers John's, all red and pliant and full and wet, in a fresh kiss tasting of cherries, softer than he could put it into words.

His eyes close as Joe’s mouth is pressing against his like a luscious chocolate pill, the uncertain swirl of his tongue against John’s lower lip is tickling like a summer breeze. John’s mouth opens on its own and lets Joe’s tongue slip in for a second, but then it touches his and John suddenly withdraws.

Joe’s eyes are still closed and his lips parted a bit for a few more seconds, his tongue pulling back as he slowly looks up at him.

His eyes are completely enchanted, and John wants to scream.

It happened.

It really did fucking happen.

His heart is beating in his chest so fast it might give out.

Joe looks dizzy but totally pleased with himself, arms around John’s shoulders and hips pressed against his once again, and John thinks he might go crazy.

“What are you doing, Joe?” He’s trying to be reasonable even though the blood is boiling in his veins. Joe is rubbing against him, letting out the most delicious pleading little noises, and John hears himself almost begging. “You can’t do these things with me. You do these things with girls your age, or boys, whatever. What are you trying to do to me? Do you think this is fair?”

Joe stares, reaching up to stroke John’s face. “What’s wrong? I know you like me. And I like you too,” he whispers, his obvious hard-on is warm against-

It's like a red flag for the bull.

Now John’s own thoughts are betraying him as well. His hands tighten on Joe’s shoulders, thumb pressing above his collarbone, then continue to trek down his arms, gliding over the ridge of his biceps, the long length of his arms. His eyes are contemplating the face in front of him, noting the fine, distinctive features that remind him of his best friend, and remind him of a small kid he used to take out for ice cream-

“John, please-”

That voice is not of a child anymore.

_Fuck-_

“Joe, I’m married,” he objects weakly, silently begging the boy to put an end to this.

Joe whispers something. Something like “this doesn’t need to mean anything.” Something like “only this once”. John can’t hear it anymore.

His mind is deceiving him, and he only sees Joe, looking up at him pleadingly.

He’s so tiny, and yet so grown-

John never was able to deny him anything.

He's got the chance to make this beautiful, eager, willing boy writhe with pleasure…

“If I-”

John hears his own voice, raspy and giving in, all of his pores, all of his cells protesting against saying it, but he does it anyway as he closes his eyes and shakes his head.

“If I- get you off now, will you leave me alone?”

Joe’s eyes widen and his lips part, letting out a small squeak.

“Will you?” John asks, stricter now, putting his hands on Joe’s hips to keep him in place, and Joe stands still and nods, gasping for air.

“Say you will behave then,” John says, giving up, hoping for this to be a dream. He prays for the moment of waking up.

Joe’s voice is barely above a whimper.

“I’ll behave, I’ll behave, I promise I’ll be good, I promise-”

John feels his mind darkening, losing reality.

It’s just a hormonal teenager, a stupid child, wanting to bang everything that moves. He just needs to get it out of his system. He’s doing him a favor.

Only once. Only this once.

Joe’s eyes close and his head hits the wall with a small thud as John slips a hand from his hip to cup his bulge through his shorts. His hand twitches as if wanting to pull away but he tightens it instead.

_Fuck, fuck-_

John wants to get over with this as quickly as possible and wants it to last as long as it can. He listens for a minute to hear if anybody is approaching before reaching into Joe’s underwear, his fingertips tapping over his length, twisting his hand and taking him into a firm grip.

Joe’s cock is warm and hard in his cold hand, smooth skin covering it, already wet as John’s fingers slip over it, subconsciously measuring his size. It's been a while since he's done this… He looks at Joe’s face to watch his reactions, and Joe’s eyes are squeezed shut and his lips are parted around harsh wheezing, so loud it’s getting obvious.

“Shhh,” John shushes, putting his free hand over Joe’s mouth to quiet him, covering his whole jaw, and Joe’s brows twitch.

John doesn’t want to play around much. He sets a firm tempo, leaning down to Joe's neck to smell the scent of sweat and gum and deodorant and summer dust, and Joe snuffs against his palm.

“I’ll let go of your mouth now if you can keep quiet. If you can’t, I’ll stop. Can you be quiet?”

Joe nods, and John takes his hand away as he’s thumbing the head of Joe’s cock, and Joe bites his lip but he doesn’t make a sound besides the sharp exhales through his nose.

John’s gotten into a trance and he’s thankful for it. He closes his eyes and concentrates on the sensation of Joe’s hardness in his hand, sliding the tips of his fingers down to tap his balls briefly, threading through the coarse hair, and Joe jumps, his hands clawing into John’s shirt, and John can hear himself panting as well, his forehead pressed against Joe's, the boy's body hot against his chest.

He blindly leans closer to Joe's ear and licks it, letting his breath caress his earlobe, and Joe is thrusting fast into his hand now, he must be close already.

He’ll help him.

“So, you think you could handle fucking me? Joe, son, you wouldn’t last two minutes," he purrs, and Joe whimpers, his own hand comes up to cover his mouth. Adorable. “Do you even know how opening up a man feels like? How hot and tight it is? How aching and how rough it can be?”

Joe is trembling now, holding onto John’s waist, and John can sense he’s almost there. He lets his hand go even faster, and Joe grinds his teeth and lets out a choked gasp as if he were in pain, and John’s palm is suddenly covered in hot, sticky cum, and it’s like a slap in his face. His eyes flick open and he looks in Joe’s face, twisted and ugly and beautiful, and he thinks he might scream in horror because this is not a dream and he just did this and-

Joe is panting, going limp against the wall and John turns him around without thinking, hearing Joe’s protesting noises.

_Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck-_

He still has an elbow pressed into Joe’s back as he fumbles with his belt, clumsily unbuckling it and fuck, it’s hot and he’s throbbing as he takes himself in his hand, still slick with Joe’s cum and-

“John, can I— I want to touch it-”

He hears Joe whining, but no, he won’t let him touch him, not in a thousand years, he tucks Joe’s shirt up his back-

He knows it’s so wrong, it’s so horribly wrong but he keeps going, his brain is yelling to stop, but Joe is whimpering louder beneath him and his body is reacting to his sounds-

“Please, let me at least see-”

John presses him hard against the wall to shut him up, hand sliding rapidly over his dick and it’s so fucking wrong but Joe is there and he smells so deliciously sinful and his waist is so slender and his hair burns so red, and John growls as he thrusts his hips right against Joe’s arse and spurts all over the small of his back, and Joe groans and pushes back against him when he feels it-

John leans his head against Joe’s nape, letting the endorphins keep the shame away for a few more seconds, listening to his breathing slowing down.

He doesn’t say a thing as he grabs some paper and wipes Joe’s back, briefly noting the smoothness of skin, the smoothness of the skin he’s just marked-

The disgust clenches his guts like a sucker punch, the same moment Joe reaches back and holds onto his waist with a hand.

“Get out,” John manages to rasp out, not looking at him, and Joe turns towards him for a second like he wants to say something before he peeks out of the stall and leaves, leaving John hanging there.

He thinks he might throw up.

Joe played him and he let it.

 

It takes some time to pull himself together and gather the courage to get outside.

He washes his hands, forever grateful that nobody came in in the past ten minutes.

Joe is leaning against a shop window, rapidly tapping his fingers on the glass, his shoulders hunched. John looks at his figure before stepping to him, not knowing what to say and hesitating to touch him. He's rarely felt this nauseated by himself in his life, if ever. The thought that he got aroused by the boy to the point that he had an orgasm makes him feel even sicker.

Joe still looks ahead, his expression neutral, but John knows, oh, how he knows he's a good actor.

“Joe-”

“Let’s grab the food,” Joe says quickly and turns to go inside.

John swallows and follows him.

They get the food, not talking but still perfectly coordinated - they already have their own process for grocery shopping, Joe immediately going to the greens and booze section, John heading for the dairy and the meat.

He searches for Joe, finding him standing in a row, his thick ginger hair very distinguishable from afar.

The cashier looks at the bottles and then at Joe.

“Tua età?”

“Pardon?”

“Age?”

Joe turns a bit red. “Sixteen.”

“Okay, then please put-”

“It's okay. He's with me.”

John’s struck again by the mere fact of Joe's age. The cashier nods, probably assuming they are relatives, and John’s hands are trembling as he pays.

They carry the food to the car, exchanging only the most necessary words, and Joe helps him arrange everything before they get in to leave.

“Seatbelt,” John says, and Joe fastens it without a word.

They drive in quiet for a while, until Joe can't seem to handle the silence and starts to fumble with the CDs.

_Shine On You, Crazy Diamond_

Good choice. The tender, instrumental beats of Pink Floyd are strangely comforting, and John finds himself relaxing ever so slightly. For a few blessed moments only the curves of the road, the setting sun, and the lyrics exist - and Joe, and John is watching him from the corner of his eye.

Music really is the answer to almost everything; a drug that can cure, that can cheer you up, that can calm you, that can change your life. It can make you feel romantic or powerful, it can keep you alive.

_Remember when you were young, you shone like the sun_

“John, can you pull over for a second?” Joe asks suddenly, voice deep and polite.

_Now there's a look in your eyes, like black holes in the sky_

John stops at the nearest parking lot, stubbornly looking ahead after turning the engine off, his hands still on the steering wheel. Joe’s turned towards the window, and John could cut the renewed tension with a knife.

_You were caught on the crossfire of childhood and stardom, blown on the steel breeze_

He jumps when he feels Joe's hand on his arm, but relaxes as soon as he realizes that this touch is not intended to awake lust in him, but compassion and forgiveness.

That's when John realizes that Joe is not angry or disgusted.

_You reached for the secret too soon, you cried for the moon_

Joe's ashamed.

_Shine on you, crazy diamond_

John’s heart goes soft for him, the anger he just realizes he’s been feeling fades now, leaving only the crushing self-loathing behind.

“John, I'm-” Joe starts before inhaling sharply, still staring through the windshield. “I'm sorry.”

John waits in case Joe wants to continue but he doesn't.

“I'm sorry, too,” he says after a while, finally looking at his godson, who has tears on his cheek, looking stunningly fragile and young now.

“No, it's… it's my fault you’re angry with me now and maybe you hate me, I didn't want to- I didn't-”

“You didn't really think it through, right?” John asks, and Joe nods, sniffing and wiping his face.

John sighs. _Time to face the truth, old man._

“Look at me.” Joe obeys. “Of course I don't hate you. I'm the adult, I should have had more sense, should have known better. I lost my temper. Forgive me.”

Joe's eyes are shining, his brows are furrowed. He’s so pretty. John resists the urge to stroke his cheek.

“I shouldn't have touched you like that. It was wrong, it was so wrong. It was never supposed to happen, and I regret it.”

“But you came, too,” Joe says matter-of-factly.

“Yes. I did.” John shivers. But what else is there to say to that? “But it was wrong and sick, and it must never happen again.”

“Did you hate it?”

The pain in Joe’s voice stings, but he has to be strong now.

“It's not about that. But if we were found out-”

He can't even finish the sentence, the fear sinks in his stomach like he's just swallowed stones, his breath sharp. “I could never see my kids again. Never see Veronica or Joseph or…”

Joe nods when he sees him going pale. “I get it.”

He squeezes John's arm reassuringly, and they are looking into each other's eyes.

“…or you.”

Joe’s cheeks turn white as well. He’s smart. He knows. John really hopes Joe understands the full weight of the situation.

“I-” Joe’s mouth is gaping. But the only thing he says in the end is, “it won't happen again”.

Silence.

“Thank you. It’s for the best.” John puts his hand on Joe's that’s still on his arm, squeezing it. He looks for a tissue in his pocket so Joe can blow his nose.

They drive home in silence, but Joe smiles at him sheepishly when they arrive.

 

John stands under the cold shower for an hour, letting the water wash the regret off of him. He doesn’t get too much sleep that night, cuddled against Ronnie’s side.


	5. As The Summer's Dancing In Your Body

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jealousy has an ugly cold grip on John's already tormented heart.

Days pass and John can almost forget about that… incident.

Their families spend the time with grilling and swimming and playing and chatting, like before. The sun doesn’t shine any differently. Food still tastes exceptionally good, no matter who makes it. The landscape is still agonizingly beautiful.

Just like Joe. He's still sweet and snarky and funny, but for John, it's a different feeling now. It aches a little.

Nothing has changed, except they only talk when they are around others.

Nothing has changed, except he’s realized Joe was right; at some point, he’s started to look at his godson differently. Look at him as he’d look at… a man.

A man he finds attractive.

When did that happen? How long has it been like this?

Days pass, and John has become more or less successful in pretending that everything is fine.

He’s sunbathing while watching his kids play with Joseph's kids.

He’s amazed at how good Joe is with children. Sure, Luke and Cameron are not babies anymore; and John is not surprised how well Joe gets along with Joshua and how close they’ve become in the past weeks - they were born in the same year after all, and that thought makes him feel… well, ‘weird’ is not really the best fitting word for it. 'Dirty’ is better.

Joe never seems to get tired of playing with kids, and John watches them build things from Legos for hours.

“Joe, Joe, make a dino for me!” Cam asks, tugging on Joe’s t-shirt, apparently thinking Joe is a dinosaur expert, and Joe laughs.

“I can try to build one, but it will be lame. Here.”

He puts a few pieces together, the result resembling more of a giraffe than a dinosaur, but Cam doesn't have high standards and he's giggling with joy. Suddenly Luke wants a dino as well, and John is watching the three of them putting Lego pieces together, Joe enthusiastically explaining the species he's learned about during shooting. Gallimimus. Velociraptor. He mimics their roars and puts his hands in front of him, snarling and growling at the kids, who are laugh-screaming and running away as Joe is chasing them around.

“Joe, you're teaching them bullshit,” Joshua says, bringing a tray of lemonade and distracting the kids.

“Language!” John shouts at him, and his son laughs.

“Sorry, Dad. Joe, you're teaching them _incorrect information,”_ he chuckles. “The dinos had feathers, except the flying ones, and the T-rex is now believed to have been necrophagous.”

“Well it might've been, but it certainly wouldn't have been that interesting in the movie, right?” Joe asks teasingly, poking Josh in the ribs and Josh pokes him back and suddenly they're rolling around in a play fight, yelling _“I only eat your rotting corpse”_ and laughing, both of their red hair glistening in the sunlight, slim young limbs wrapped around each other before they come to a halt, their eyes meeting and lingering for a while before they break out in laughter.

John can feel his mouth go dry and his stomach churn.

_No._

He almost manages to catch himself before the thought can form but it's too late, the bitterness creeps at him from the back of his mind like a snake, slipping out of his reach and twisting around his heart.

Joe is playing with his son and he's jealous.

He's jealous of his own son. His son, who's obviously much younger and prettier than him, a better match for Joe than he ever could be; but even if their playing wasn't totally innocent (which it _is,_ he persuades himself), there would be nothing wrong with it.

But then why do his guts feel like they’ve been tied in a knot?

It probably doesn't last more than two seconds before he forces himself to look away, but not fast enough to miss Joe looking at him, green eyes twinkling at him under Joshua's arm.

John closes his eyes in front of his gaze that could give him away.

This is totally fucked up.

He looks around, checking if anyone's seen anything. He's getting paranoid. Or he really needs to pay attention, he can't decide. He needs to put on shades at least.

He pours himself a lemonade and talks with Joseph a bit, laughing with him as they're watching Joe run around with Cameron on his shoulder and Josh with Luke on his own, and John suddenly thinks with nostalgia about the eighties that Joseph is now asking him about.

Well, Joseph is his oldest friend, but there are _things_ he certainly won't talk to him about. He wants to spit in his own face for keeping a secret from someone he's known since they were kids, but he doesn't want to wake up being rightfully choked by his own intestines.

He really, really misses Freddie right now. He could tell him _everything,_ but even Fred would throw hands if he knew about this crap. He would say “get your shit together, Johnny boy, for heaven's fucking sake”.

And Ronnie-

He almost told her.

He wanted to tell, and there were moments when he had the opportunity. But how?

 _Hey, honey, I jerked off my godson._ Our _godson._

Of course, he’s been unable to do it, the mere thought leaves him in cold sweat. So he’s stayed silent, telling himself he'll figure it out soon.

Or maybe he'll keep it a secret forever, a dirty, dirty little secret.

The hardest part is acting normal around her.

His wife is smart, one of the smartest people he's ever met; one of her many strengths that attracted him to her back in those days, besides her dance moves in the disco, of course. He doesn't regret a single thing they put together as a team, and he'd definitely wouldn't give up their kids for anything.

It's not easy to be with someone for so long, for decades. Marriage is hard, and if you expect the same burning love for decades that's in the beginning, you'll get disappointed. It's hard to deal with seeing someone at their lowest point or face the fact that you're not always changing in compatible ways. They definitely had their share of problems; cleaning the vomit off each other when one of them was ill, dealing with a mental breakdown, spending sleepless nights in hospitals with sick children, watching each other crushing on someone else, dealing with self-consciousness on both sides.

They even considered divorce at one point.

John had told her every nasty thing he's done, and in the end, he was forgiven. He's forgiven her too, the angry outlashes, the accusations, the other, platonic loves. He might say that they’ve learned to fall in love again, and what’s even more successful is that they managed to do it at the same time. From time to time they still wander apart a little, but they’ve always found their way back to each other. It was tough, and he's not going to give it up again and risk it for some stupid lust that is just a passing madness.

He looks at Veronica who’s lusciously sunbathing with her sunglasses on, enjoying that for a change she’s not the one who has to deal with the kids. He feels himself go tender, a smile spreading on his lips. She’s still beautiful, her slender long legs tanning in the sun, her blonde hair with white strands blown by the wind. Her body is familiar and still captivating, speaking of the sacrifices she made for their family. The mother of his six children. His best friend. The love of his life.

Joe’s laughter cuts into his ears, his silly juvenile voice is now raspier than usual, giving a glimpse of how deep it will get when he’s fully grown. John shivers like he's got ice poured over him. He stands up and heads to the kitchen to grab some beer, wanting to be wasted, even if he needs his sensibility more than ever.

He stands in front of the open fridge, running his fingers through his hair and tugging at it until it hurts, the pain and cold sobering him up a little.

It's only just a crush, it will go away.

It's just like all the others. It'll go away.

When a midlife crisis hits, it hits hard. He would laugh if it wasn't so agonizing.

“Hey.”

Joe is suddenly next to him, touching his shoulder feather lightly, and John almost jumps as he slams the fridge door closed.

“Are you okay?” Joe asks, a bit tense and worried. He stinks of sweat and hormones, and John fights the urge to bite him. “You don’t look okay.”

“I’m fine, thanks for asking.” It takes John a few seconds to calm down, nervously glancing behind his back. He really needs to chill.

“Sure you are.” Joe’s face is intentionally neutral save for the slight furrowing of his brows. “I wish I believed you.”

John rolls his eyes, but Joe somehow is able to see through him, and there is no point of lying to him. The boy is too sharp for his own good.

“You won, I'm not fine. Is it that obvious?”

“It’s obvious to me because I like to observe people, to learn their gestures. To others… perhaps not so much.”

“I’m glad.” Even he winces at how dry he sounds.

Joe narrows his eyes.

“You’ve been avoiding me for two days. If anything, this is damn suspicious to everyone. I know I fucked things up but I-” He swallows. “I miss talking to you. I miss you. I want to-”

“You’re not supposed to want anything. And if you excuse me now, I have to piss,” John says, and passes him to leave.

Joe touches his arm, his voice getting desperate.

“John, please, talk to me-”

John stops, glancing at him, observing him, his pleading eyes. He sighs; there’s no need to be nasty to the boy, even if he's angry with him. It takes two to tango, after all.

“I need some time, okay? To sort it out.”

Joe lets him go, and John turns and leaves, feeling Joe’s gaze on his back, getting into the bathroom to pull himself together. Freddie would approve, even if he’d make a sassy comment about his rudeness.

He rubs his face as he sits on the toilet lid, probably the only place in the whole fucking mountain range where he can get some privacy. He stares into nothing, the beer savourless on his tongue.

He’s so alone, and he can’t talk to any of his friends.

He can’t talk to his oasis, because he defiled his son.

He can’t talk to his mate, because he betrayed her trust.

He can’t talk to his voice, because he’s dead.

He can’t talk to his godson, because…

The images of a small kid pop up in his mind. Little Joe, always needy for his godfather, tucking on the sleeve of his trousers and never leaving him alone, wanting to play with him and proudly show him his toys.

But the images of present Joe, oh, how different they are.

Joe’s tender voice. Joe’s vulnerable eyes.

Joe’s sinful lips.

Joe’s laughter, Joe’s energy.

Joe's trail of hair on his stomach, leading to his groin.

Joe’s talent and curiosity, his beautiful soul.

Joe, Joe. _Joe._

A little scarlet demon with the face of an angel, sent by the devil himself to tempt him.

He prays it all away, but it just continues to grow.

He sighs tremblingly, slowly slipping his hand into his underwear at the thought of Joe's flaming red hair between his fingers.

John's gradually started to give up and accept that he's lusting over his oldest friend's son. Apparently, you can get used to everything, even to the flashes of fantasies of a slim young body and blood red lips at the most inappropriate times. Like when your wife is making love to you. Or when you're talking to your said friend, and mentally hug him and kiss him on the cheek for making such a perfect child.

He really is fucking sick, but he can't help it. He's in a trap. No excuse to get away and drag his family with him. No excuse to leave alone.

Totally no excuse to take Joe and run away with him.

The thought that Joe probably wouldn't mind doesn't help either.

Joe looks like he’s also accepted that there won't be anything else between them, he stopped casting jealous gazes at Veronica or even at his own dad when he thought nobody was looking. John reached out to him after a few days, and they are acting normal again, though less touchy, keeping more distance as if by an unsaid new rule.

So John is enjoying the summer as much as he can, and the game of pretending between them. The pretense of being normal.

That they are family.

Well, they are, even if not by blood. And that makes this even sicker.

John often has flashbacks of the times when Joe was little. He remembers swinging his newborn godson in his arms so the parents could get some rest, watching Joe suck on his little pacifier and look at John with huge baby eyes as he murmured to him.

Joe learning to walk, his arms reaching for John, making the most adorable, frustrated faces when he fell on his fat little tush, but giggled happily when he reached John and he threw him up in the air.

A bigger Joe in his lap, wanting to practice reading, John kissing the top of his head when he got the words right.

The bicycle races across the New York State countrysides.

Joe's letters to him about his first crushes, his acting, his friends, his little tween shenanigans.

But Joe is not a kid anymore, and John finds himself watching the sun shine on Joe's fiery hair, paint his cheeks rosy and freckled, make his skin glisten.

He's so breathtakingly marvelous.

John's shamelessly basking in his beauty as unobtrusively as he can. He’s trying to act casual with him, and thankfully Joe seems to be respecting that. John's simply accepted that this vacation is about a crush, and they will get over it when the summer ends. It was a one-time thing anyway, Joe himself said that.

At least that's what he prays for.

 

Pretense or not, he can’t help but notice how often Josh is around Joe, like he was drawn to him like a moth to the candlelight. John can’t blame him.

He always smiles at the boys when they are racing to the edge of the woods or trying to beat each other in swimming to the farther shore of the lake.

He smiles at them, encouraging them both, and internally he's punching holes through walls.

He's more or less not surprised that one night, after a particularly sweaty and nasty lovemaking session with Ronnie he goes out to the bathroom and bumps into Joe.

Joe, who happens to be just sneaking out of Joshua's room in his shorts, his t-shirt creased into a bundle in front of his crotch, and the smell of weed smacks in John's face as if he walked into a brick wall.

Joe is so startled by him he stumbles backward, and John would laugh if the smell wasn't stomach-turningly strong.

That, and the smell of…

His blood pressure is rising.

“What's going on?

Joe looks at him with red eyes, a bit nervous but also very contented.

“Hey, John! Nothing special, Josh and I were- catching up.”

John wrinkles his nose. “I really can smell you two having fun in there.”

“Yeah, you know we were… bonding a bit, after all, we’re almost like cousins and haven't seen each other in years. Wanted to get familiar.”

Joe is so brash. So he thinks he's a big boy now, eh?

“Bonding by… smoking weed?” John is standing with his hands on his hips, staring down at Joe, but the kid just bites his lip and grins at him, looking absolutely smug.

“Letting out a bit of steam, yes. You want some?” Joe takes the rest of the joint out of his pocket and holds it towards John.

What a brat. The pungent smell of cum and sweat is sharp and dirty in John’s nose, and the thought that Joe and his son got a little _too_ familiar with each other makes him see red.

He simply smacks the joint out of the boy’s hand.

Joe looks at him like a cat that ate the canary, and they are staring into each other's faces until Josh peeks out the door curiously, interrupting their silent clash.

He goes pale when he sees John.

“Dad, uh-”

“What's up, son? Getting high?” John asks casually, folding his arms.

Josh looks like a guilty puppy, and now that he’s here Joe tries to act like one as well, and John would laugh at them if he wasn’t mad. The only reason he won't yell their socks off because he doesn't want Veronica to come out, but he tries to scold them.

“So tell me, why do you two need drugs now? I thought you had enough fun here-”

“Come on, John, like you've never done it.”

Damn, Joe really likes to chat back.

“I did when I was already an adult, not a developing kid-”

“Oh, cut us some slack, it’s summer, nothing's gonna happen from one little joint-”

“You can never know what it does to you, you know it can make you go schizophrenic-”

“Bullshit-”

“-bullshit my arse, and for God’s sake at least open the goddamn windows before your parents come out-”

Joe looks absolutely satisfied by the way John is pointing his finger at him, and for some reason, it annoys the hell out of John. He almost comments on it, but then he notices Josh looking weirdly at them in the background.

“What is it, son?”

Josh grimaces. “You two argue like a married couple. Listen, it was my weed and we're sorry, you can leave Joe alone, we won't do it again-”

“No, it was mine,” Joe interrupts, and under different circumstances he would be so cute, trying to defend Josh like a good boyfriend.

 _I’m seeing too much into it,_ John thinks, and he lowers his voice as he turns to Josh.

“I don’t care whose it was! I know you will try it again, but for heaven’s sake, you know you can trust me enough to ask me, or at least _tell_ me beforehand, so we can talk it through-”

“Okay, I will! Sorry, Dad. Really.”

“Thanks!”

Josh looks at Joe before nodding and Joe nods back, and Josh retreats into his room.

John is now looking at Joe, eyebrows raised, and Joe looks back at him without blinking.

He listens if Veronica is awake but there are no sounds coming from her.

“Anything to add?” He asks finally, and Joe snickers.

“You're not my dad. I don't owe you an explanation.”

Jesus, he really is one snarky brat.

“I’m still your godfather, in case you forgot.” Joe shrugs. “If not me, but maybe you do owe Joseph an explanation."

There is smugness in Joe’s voice. “You won’t tell him.”

“What makes you think that?”

Joe smiles, shrugging again, but doesn't answer. “May I go to bed now?”

He looks completely satisfied, and John swallows the urge to corner him and force him to confess every dirty thing that's going on with his son.

_You think I won’t tell Joseph? We’ll see about that._

“You may. And pick that up.” He points at the joint on the floor.

“Thank you, goddad. I knew a rockstar like you would understand,” Joe smiles, pressing a kiss on John’s cheek before leaning down for the joint and heading to his room, dancing a bit on the way.

John’s still fuming as he gets back to bed, lost in thoughts.

 

Since the ‘incident’ with Josh and the weed, John often catches himself keeping an eye on them. He can try to lie but he won’t get to fool himself - he’s absolutely jealous, even though he doesn’t have the right, but his stupid mind can’t do anything about it.

At least his stupid mind is unable to think about his own son like _that_ , thank God, but it is very much able to pop up certain pictures. Pictures of Joe groaning in pleasure in another person’s arms. Pictures of a nameless, faceless person touching his own little Joe.

Joe, who belongs to _him._

He tries his best not to give in to this thought, but it just keeps coming up.

His stupid mind keeps telling things to him. _You had your chance. You had it and you wasted it. Now he’s someone else’s, see?_

Damn, he really needs his willpower now, but he’s so weak. He can feel himself getting more and more possessive of Joe. When they are just relaxing on the couch watching a movie, John often rests his arm on the back of the couch behind Joe’s back, his other arm behind Ronnie…

Sometimes he notices both Joe and Josh missing, and he can feel himself getting alarmed. He doesn't catch them though, not that he spies on them, no, he hasn't sunk _that_ low yet. Usually, the boys are just hanging out, talking or sunbathing.

He’s trying to act all natural like nothing happened. He uses the voice he’s always used with Joe, maybe a little bit more parental and less casually friendly than it was at the beginning of the holiday, than it was before-

Before that almost kiss, and before…

His mouth is watering at the memory of his hand on Joe's cock.

This is fucking sick, and it's getting worse.

Of course, he can’t skiff the thought that maybe Joe just grabbed the opportunity to make him jealous - while also having a bit of fun himself. That’s pretty probable; from time to time he catches Joe’s smug face staring at him almost provocatively, grinning at him above Josh’s shoulder as they're play wrestling. It's cheap, but it’s working.

But John won’t show his jealousy, not in a thousand years. He always laughs at Joe and Josh competing with each other, and he can see Joe’s insecurity at whether he's succeeded in making him jealous or not.

He's fine with it, he almost finds it entertaining.

Except for one day, when Joe has been waltzing around him for hours, not even letting him go for a jog, constantly talking and following him.

“Trying to get fit, goddad?” Joe is grinning at him from behind a tree, standing on one leg and lifting up the other behind himself like some twisted nymph, and John groans.

“Joe, leave me alone for five minutes, for heaven's sake. You’re acting like a four-year-old with an Oedipus complex.”

“Want me to join you? We could race and talk, and someone has to pay attention to your old man joints…”

It’s a totally innocent question, really. Except John doesn’t believe it at all. The boy’s been playing his nerves like guitar strings.

John's had enough. He takes off his shirt, and before he puts on the one he plans to jog in, he corners Joe, who’s slowly backing off until he bumps against the wooden wall of the cottage, looking up at him with huge eyes.

John slowly grins down at him. “So, Joe, you want to chit-chat? Maybe you can start by telling me how it's been going with you. With you and Josh, maybe?”

He knows he’s being possessive, he knows it’s wrong and can't help it.

Joe stares at him, slowly smiling as understanding twinkles in his eyes.

“Nothing we’re up to, John, really.”

“Nothing?” John leans close, his arm lying against the wall at the side of Joe’s head. “For me, it quite looks like you want to have both the father and the son.”

That self-satisfied grin that so angers and turns John on returns to Joe’s face.

“Hm, how did you say? ‘You’re hallucinating.’”

“Maybe,” John purrs, “but you’ll tell me what's going on with you two.”

“Damn,” Joe moans softly as John is getting even closer, until there’s only a millimeter separating them, and Joe involuntarily arches his spine. “You're a pervert.”

Sick, sick, sick. John is having too much fun.

“No, you’re misunderstanding, I don’t care about the filthy details. I just want to know - are you two together?”

Joe laughs breathlessly as he stares at John’s bare chest and shoulders before lifting his head.

“Would you like it if we were? You know I'm the best you could hope for him,” he says finally, chuckling, but his eyes roll back in his head as John’s breath tickles his face and ear.

What a brat.

John looks at him admiringly. He’s not touching him, no, he just lets the boy feel his presence, his body heat, lets him smell his scent and the damp transpiration of his sweat, yet Joe leans into him, his eyes closing, panting ever so softly. He smells of testosterone and lust, and John sees his thin shorts tenting eagerly.

John's breathing speeds up, but he pulls himself together. He's been enjoying and hating the game, but it has to stop. He really hopes he can talk to Joe as an adult.

“Let’s be honest with each other, okay?” Joe nods. “You can try to provoke me, seduce me, tempt me as much as you want, I’m not touching you ever again. And stop using my son if you don’t really want him, he doesn't deserve to be your toy."

Joe stares at him like he doesn’t understand. He looks light-headed, his face is flushed and his pupils are dilated as John is towering over him.

"I'm not using him.”

Seriously.

"You aren't? Come on-"

"I’m not!"

John just stares at him, his jaw tensing. Joe playing with him is one thing, but the little sociopath torturing his son...

Joe must notice the dark flash of his eyes because he sighs.

"Is that what you think of me…? He approached me, yeah. I thought it would-” He looks aside and pauses. “But I told him it won't work for me. A few days ago. I'm not as big of an asshole as you think."

John stares at Joe, processing the information, searching his face for signs of lying, but he can’t see any, not even under Joe’s acting skills. He can't say anything to that, but the sour anger starts to fade. He’s almost ashamed of himself for framing Joe up for a second.

"Not even a summer fling?"

Joe's eyes are burning.

"Not even a summer fling."

“Good. I hope we are clear.” John smiles at him, pressing his used shirt in the boy's hand before he puts on his tank top.

“John…” Joe's little voice is thin now, his hands absentmindedly playing with the fabric. “Did you tell Dad about…”

“No. Don’t worry.” John turns, fixing the laces of his running shoes.

“I know it worked, John.”

He pretends he didn’t hear the quiet backchat.

He sprints and suddenly he's floating on cloud nine, grinning like a madman while jogging in the woods, the wind blowing his hair, the smell of the forest making him energetic and free. He knows he’s turned into a bastard, a jealous, obsessed, self-entitled, cheating, fucking asshole, but he doesn’t care.

The memory of Joe’s eyes staring longingly at him shines brighter than the sunlight among the leaves.

He speeds up, his heart racing rapidly, his lungs aching. He’s never felt so powerful in his life.

 

They’re sitting in the sauna that night. To John’s surprise everyone fits in, and they are talking about sports and hiking and food and games and puzzles and beauty tips and animals and...

John is really grateful that unlike the Finnish, Joseph's family doesn't like to get in the sauna completely naked because damn, he sure would have to fight for his life not to get a hard-on.

Nobody suspects anything. Joe and he talk normally again in front of the others like nothing happened, joking and pranking each other, though John is subconsciously paying attention to any joke that has the slightest chance of becoming inappropriate before it can form. He has certainly picked up some acting skills from Joe.

When Veronica leaves to put the kids to bed, and Joseph leaves to take his wife to bed, and the teenagers leave to burglarize the fridge one more time before brushing teeth, John is hoping in vain to be finally left alone for a second.

Of course, he's not that lucky.

Joe stays back for last, not moving from his bench.

“Don’t stay too long, son!” Joseph shouts through the door before leaving.

“Five more minutes!” Joe answers, still looking at John, and his gaze slowly turns downright provoking as he locks his eyes into his, listening to the sounds of the others showering.

John returns it even as he's tensing.

Oh, another round of their wicked game.

There’s no way he's retreating now.

Joe is still looking at him, eyes transparent until everyone's left. Then he stands up and pulls the towel off his hips, turning away with the same movement, throwing the towel onto the bench in a cinematically choreographed slow motion, revealing his arse.

John sits there like the sky has just turned green.

He's staring mesmerized at Joe's backside, small and shapely as he steps out the door, heading to the shower.

John hears him yell in a high pitched voice as the cold water hits his body, and that somehow slaps him out of the trance.

That fucking brat. John is not only sweating because of the heat anymore.

He barely has time to get angry, still not quite believing how Joe has played him again when the door opens and the boy comes back in, dripping and nipples hard from the cold shower, goosebumps all over his butt-naked body.

He's half hard, and John can't help but stare.

Narrow waist. Long limbs. Sharp hip bones, slight ridges of abs. Dark nipples.

He looks divine, and John's blood is rushing to his crotch.

Joe stares at him, absolutely smug as he grabs the towel and casually starts drying his hair with it, his cock bouncing slightly in front of the patch of his pubic hair, and John’s mouth is watering.

He really is ginger _everywhere._

“Eyes up here,” Joe says, and John can't decide whether to laugh or tell him to go fuck himself.

He does neither.

“You promised you won’t make a move at me again. That it won’t happen again.”

Joe smirks. “Nothing's happening. I just forgot my towel here. We're just chilling, I'm not touching you.”

“You're provoking me again.”

“I'm just providing you the sight of your desires.”

“I don't want to see your package.”

“No? Then show me.”

He can't believe his ears. _“What?”_

“Show me that you don't want it. Show me that you're not hard.”

“You don't get to command me around.”

“Right,” Joe smirks and John really really wants to shut him up in the most inappropriate ways imaginable. “So you _are_ hard.”

“I'm not.” This is getting ridiculous.

“Show me. I want to see. I want to see what I can't have.”

Oh. What an interesting turn.

“You need wank material? You should stick to porn.”

“Porn… is not you.”

“You should have stuck to Josh then.”

Joe smiles, for a second he looks almost sad.

“He's not you either.”

Damn, that feels good. What a perfect answer is that.

“You really do like to play with fire, son.”

He can't miss how Joe's eyes are starting to burn at the word. John definitely stores this observation for later use.

But Joe is not someone not to talk back.

"That's what you like about me, don't you. Don't act like I don’t turn you on."

John watches the ever-present challenge and invitation in his eyes, and it’s so tempting to give in to that challenge. He wants to give in, but he won't go down without fighting.

“Ask me nicely.”

Joe stares at him, apparently, that's not what he was expecting. His mouth opens but no words come out.

John smirks. Joe might act all tough and provoking, but he's so easy to toy with in return.

“You wanted to play adult games, right? I said, ask me if you want to see. Politely.”

Joe's voice is thin as he breathes, his cock twitching, and he instinctively covers himself with the towel.

"…please, John,” he starts, “please let me see your- your dick. _Sir."_

John smiles devilishly, enjoying this dirty game far too much.

“Good lad."

He slowly lifts his towel and spreads his legs a bit, a few drops of sweat running down his balls and his thighs, drawing trails into his hair. He’s been half hard for a while, but now his cock hardens fully in a second under Joe's gaze, who's staring at it with his mouth agape and his eyes almost bulging out of his head.

“Holy shit,” Joe whispers, blinking rapidly a few times, his tongue flicking out to lick his lips, and John is flooded by a sick, sick pride at Joe's longing squeal.

“Does this satisfy your needs?” He asks, leaning on his elbow and letting Joe enjoy the sight of his thick, erect cock for a few more seconds before standing up and twisting the towel around himself again. He exits the sauna, not without bumping shoulders with Joe, leaving him standing there astonished and aroused.


	6. Your Dreams Are My Dreams

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John is spiraling into the black hole, deeper, deeper, where there's no turning back from.

He's on his knees and elbows, pounding into a warm, slick, willing body underneath, dragging his tongue over sharp collarbones and the hollow between them, tasting sweat, sweet like home.

His throat is dry from panting and grunting in pleasure, he feels fingers tangled in his hair, thighs squeezing his hips; and he groans, his hands roaming along a slender waist, up, up, searching for breasts to cup, breasts he knows so well-

He finds a flat chest, small, hard nipples poking his palm, and he gasps, jerking his head up.

His lover smiles at him, forehead glistening, eyes black and enchanted, and John comes to a halt, mortified. 

The red hair framing Joe's face glows warmly in the candlelight, John's sweat dripping and mixing with Joe's on the boy's flawless skin.

"What's the matter, goddad?" Joe asks, grinning as he strokes himself, his very hard, very flushed cock. "Don't you want to fuck me anymore? Don't you want to stick that delicious cock into my young, innocent little body?"

"God, no," John gasps, panic rising in his chest, "no, it's… I'm not supposed to…"

"You know you want me," Joe whispers like the little incubus he is, reaching down to squeeze the base of John's cock, still buried inside him. "You know I turn you on."

God, his words…

"I can't, it's… it's wrong…"

Joe's eyes are widening as tears are flooding them.

"Don't you love me anymore? If you loved me, you'd take me."

Pain stabs John's heart.

"Of course I love you, Joe… Always."

"Kiss me then." 

John can’t resist. He leans down, and Joe gently holds him, rocking his hips and pulling John deep into himself again, his silky, warm mouth opening to take in his godfather's tongue. The peak is approaching, and John thrusts and thrusts, their moans muffled by clashing lips before Joe lays his head back, whimpering and coming around John's body, twisting like a virgin sacrifice who just got stabbed as an offering for the gods.

John jerks awake in a hot sweat with the ghost of Joe's kiss on his lips, heart racing like he's been running all night. The proof of his shame, a pool of cum is slippery and warm between his thighs.

_Fuck. Fuck..._

He hides his face in his hands, groaning and tearing up in agony before staggering into the bathroom for a shower. He thinks he might throw up, but he just trembles, the tiles cold under his palm.

By the time he goes back to bed, naked, the humiliation washed off him, Ronnie is already half-awake.

"Nightmare?" She asks, and John is holding onto her as she kisses him, her hands running over his back soothingly, pulling him close. 

"Yes." 

Yes, a nightmare.

"I was hoping they wouldn't come back," Ronnie whispers, slowly stroking his hips, her hands wandering, caressing, comforting; and finally she reaches for his cock, finding it erect, and John moans against her neck.

She's so willing, has always been so willing for a good Catholic girl, and John strips her and buries his face between her legs, her taste washing away the lingering memory of teenage sweat; and he takes her, their bodies reacting to each other's almost as if conditioned, burnished to fit together by the decades. "God, how I love you," he whispers through her soft cries, desperately burying himself in her to forget all.

 

It’s another amazing week, sunny and warm, light reflecting back from the surface of the lake in glistening crescent moons, cicadas buzzing.

The sun shines straight at Joe as he's playing with the other kids, and John's just staring delightfully at him.

Each morning he can't wait to see Joe’s beautiful face again. His smooth, pale, glowing skin and his flaming hair. His wide shoulders, the freckles on his angelic face. His fresh, young masculinity. 

Each morning he can't wait to talk to him again. To play with him and the others, to laugh together, and yes, deep inside he even wants to continue their wicked game.

He shouldn’t have lost his composure in the sauna, but damn, that felt good. He can't even count how many times he's recalled Joe's stunned and aroused face, and how many times he’s touched himself at that image to get rid of the urge, the urge to pin him down and mark him as his.

And yet he still managed to have a wet dream about him. At his fucking age.

God, how he loathes himself.

But he's not doing anything. He tries to not give in, but it's pure agony when Joe is so obviously willing and down to go. 

He won't cheat. He won't. He wouldn't be able to look into Ronnie's eyes after that.

Because he still loves his wife, that's for sure. He still gets butterflies when she touches his hand or when she lightly caresses his nape, or when she lets him massage her shoulders and relaxes into his touch. When they are watching over their family.

He still loves talking with her at night on the lakeside and planning the future. He still loves being deep inside her love. He still belongs to her, and she to him.

Joe is nothing like Ronnie, yet still a lot like her in many ways. In his beliefs, in his love for family, in his tolerance.

And he’s also like Freddie. He's fire and embers, glamour and allure.

Joe makes John feel weak in a vulnerable and exciting way. He makes him feel young and carefree and strong again. He makes him rediscover his basic knowledge of the world, he makes him think differently. He makes him laugh, intentionally acting silly so he can see John's smile.

He, like Ronnie, is kind and caring and humorous.

He, like Freddie, is flamboyant and hedonistic and adores life.

He, like John, has no shame and can't resist pleasure.

He acts all grown up and tough, but John knows it's just acting, and he wants to ruin his youth and purity in the most marvelous and indecent ways. The whole of Joe, from his appearance to his soul, is too much, just too overwhelming, and he loves and hates how he makes him feel. 

He loves everything about him.

Even though—

Even though he sometimes wonders whether Joe’s gone crazy.

For days he's been watching Joe flexing and climbing trees right in front of his eyes whenever he could find an excuse, parading around in his wet swimming trunks that stick to his body, not too obviously but really obviously showing off his bulge so John can see, which is not difficult because Joe seems to be always turned on a bit, and John can't blame him - summer for teenagers is like aphrodisiac squared. Damn, the way he lies on his stomach when sunbathing, a cheeky grin spread even on his napping face, his delicious plump arse practically glowing in the light...

John giving in to the temptation once again only made Joe completely turn into a predator, torturing and teasing him. 

Teasing him with the opportunity. The promise of all the wonderful things that could be, and it's working, because suddenly all of it feels more palpable. It's not just about helping a horny teen let out the steam anymore, not about taking flirting to the next level.

No, if it was dangerous before because of his fantasies, now it's even more deadly, because it's turned very much real, and Joe is not playing in beginner mode.

The boy is really coming after his ass with the heavy weaponry, not even pretending he ever was interested in Josh anymore.

(John can see some sadness in Josh. He tried to talk to him, not to get nosy, but because he felt sorry for him, but Josh dismissed him with a quiet "I think _you_ are his type, rather than me". He doesn’t dare push the topic after that.)

Joe teases him even while they are around the others, coming over to him when he's doing the dishes, or when they’re setting the table in the garden, or are cutting wood for the campfire, pushing his hips or shoulders against his side. He breathes and whispers naughty things into John’s ear when no one’s looking, fleeing the next second to laugh and have a chat with someone else, leaving his divine scent lingering in his nose.

John is going mad, but he’s unable to do anything about it.

He can’t yell at him, because they are not alone. 

He can’t shove him away, because they are not alone. 

He can’t avoid him, because they are not alone and everyone would ask what’s going on.

He can’t push the boy onto his knees and force his mouth open, a thing Joe would probably so eagerly do for him. 

Because they are never alone. 

 

A rainy afternoon of getting high on pretending, always wondering if he's being obvious or just paranoid.

Joe’s in the living room that’s linked with the dining room, lying on the couch half-asleep, watching a movie.

John can barely concentrate on the grown-up conversation they are having at the dining table. Joe's willing presence has an existence of his own, and he's unable to think of anything else. It's vibrating, it takes up space, it fills his lungs.

He's really had to pay attention not to get tipsy, and the nervousness is clenching his stomach. This goddamn trap. He’s nervous when he’s sober, he’s weak when he’s drunk. 

Veronica is sharing an anecdote with Joseph and Mary about a woman they met during last year’s skiing, who told them the story of her birth-giving in every detail before Ronnie simply laughed at her. (“I have six,” she told her proudly, and the woman almost spat out her tea.)

At the other end of the table, Virginia and Josh and John Jr are in a heated argument about whether Holyfield will defeat Ruiz in heavyweight on the match on the 12th. (Joseph really went for the total opposite of himself when choosing his spouse, John smirks.)

Luke and Cam are napping… 

John can't take it anymore. The image of Joe's red hair above the armrest of the couch is burnt onto his retinas, he can see it even when he's not looking. His whole body feels like it could snap any second.

He excuses himself and sits on the couch at Joe's feet, and the boy is startled from the verge of sleep. 

“Sorry, I hope I didn’t wake you up.” 

“Nah, I wasn’t sleeping.” 

Joe immediately puts his feet on John’s thigh, nice and comfortable. Somehow John doesn't mind, even though until now he's been practically running away from any physical contact between them. 

He starts watching the movie absentmindedly (it’s some action movie he's never heard of and couldn’t care less about), enjoying Joe’s quiet company, resting his arm on the back of the couch. The sounds of the movie, the gunshots, the explosions, the masculine yelling are almost hypnotizing. He feels high, like floating on a cloud.

He lightly touches Joe’s leg, almost accidentally. It's totally innocent. It's just his shin, he's only playing with his leg hair. He can barely feel it but it must be tickling Joe, because he twitches and snickers.

John snickers too and he tickles Joe's foot, making him yank it away with a quiet, whiny "nooo" for a second before putting it back.

John’s not drunk. The strange tension has transformed into something else, and he feels… elevated, like he took laughing gas. It’s really light, and life seems easy, too easy. Nothing can go wrong today, he’s pretty sure.

He glances at the table, but the others are still in heated conversations. Joseph’s laughter is all open-mouthed and toothy, like all three of his children’s. It’s adorable. 

Like Joe’s.

He’s startled when Joe’s foot begins to slowly slide upwards on his thigh. He looks down, then at Joe, stunned, and the boy grins a saucy smile as his big toe gently pokes John’s crotch. It’s weird, and John quickly drapes the blanket over them. 

“Christ, Joe,” he breathes as Joe continues, pressing the sole of his foot against John’s balls.

He should stop him.

He should, but it feels so thrilling and so pleasant. His eyes are focused on the screen, enjoying the strain of his cock slowly waking up under Joe’s touch.

He has to hold onto the blanket to resist the urge to grab the kid's leg and pull it even tighter against his lap, but he can’t help thrusting a little bit, only a few millimeters, and Joe’s gaze is burning holes in his skin. 

John’s eyes really want to close, it’s starting to feel good, and from the corner of his eye, he sees Joe biting his lips and lifting his hips so he can press on him harder-

Then there’s the sudden sound of chairs rusting, and John snaps out of his trance, swiping off Joe’s leg.

Damn. 

What the hell.

He doesn't even remember how they got there, he’s so light-headed. No wonder, all of his blood has rushed to his crotch. Ronnie is approaching them, and John is thankful for the blanket in his lap. He smiles at his wife before turning to Joe.

“Joe, go fetch me a beer, will you?” he asks, winking at the boy. Somehow he can’t stand the thought of Joe sitting by his side and Ronnie by the other.

“Ask me nicely,” Joe talks back in John’s accent, mocking him and grinning, but John can’t miss the icy flash in his eyes as he gets up and lets Ronnie sit in his place.

Well played.

“Please?” John rolls his eyes, and Joe scoffs, smiling sweetly at Ronnie before getting a beer and tossing it into John’s hand a little too forcefully. “Thanks.”

“Any time.” Joe leaves to join his siblings and Josh who are arguing about what game to play next.

Ronnie cuddles to his side, and John once again tries to calm down. 

“Did you have a nice chat?” He asks.

“Yes, they really enjoyed when I mentioned Helen. And Joseph told me about their trip with Ginnie to the Maldives. Just the two of them, like in the old times! We should go there too.”

“Sure, why not. We can go in the winter, leave the kids to your mom.” John’s throat is hoarse, and he feels out of his personality like he’s floating, but he’s able to act all natural while watching himself from the outside. 

"What about you two?" Ronnie looks at him, her eyes so translucent and deep. She can see through anything. John doesn't look away, but his stomach twists. “Is everything okay? I mean with Joe. He’s been acting a little weird recently.”

John can feel his mouth go dry. “I noticed it too, but I don't know. Maybe he’ll tell me tonight, he wants to watch a movie with me. Did Joseph say anything?”

_What are you doing? Stop lying stop lying stop lying-_

“He noticed it as well, he thinks it’s about his crush on you. I didn't know it was that serious.”

“I don’t think it’s serious at all.” John intends to chuckle, but only a raspy growl comes out. He clears his throat.

Ronnie looks at him thoughtfully. “Yes, it's pretty cute, but maybe you should tone down the flirting with him before he sees too much into it.”

“Am I flirting with him?” John’s alarmed, but dissociation kicks in again, and he’s already smirking, raising an eyebrow like the whole concept was ridiculous.

“Yes, you do. I know you want to boost his self-confidence, but maybe he’s taking it a little too seriously,” she says, observing John’s face. “Or are you returning his feelings?” 

John thinks he has a heart attack. Ronnie stares at him, and he feels himself sinking, but after the longest moment in history, she just chuckles. 

“Hubby, you’ve made the most ridiculous face. I’m only joking,” she laughs, and it takes a few seconds before John is able to exhale and lay his head on the back of the couch.

“Jesus Christ… Not funny!”

“It is!” Ronnie says, playfully poking him in the stomach, wiping her tears. “Don’t be so frightened, it’s not like he’ll propose to you. Have fun with him and make up for the lost time.”

John's heart is still beating rapidly. “Come on, Ronnie. It’s not funny.”

“Oh shut up, you rockstar and your groupies.” Ronnie still grins as she smacks a kiss on his face, but John feels like he got beaten up.

Well, well, if it’s not the first icy breeze from the grave that he dug for himself. He deserves it.

 

He stumbles back like he's stepped on Lego when he enters his and Ronnie’s room that evening to have a quick wank while Ronnie and Ginnie are bonding over Jeff Goldblum, and Joe is there, doing his daily stretching, half-naked and sweating.

“Bloody hell-”

“Sorry, John,” Joe grins at him as he reaches for his toes, legs spread on the carpet. He doesn’t sound sorry at all. “All the other rooms are occupied.”

“Stop bullshitting! Why are you here? You've been acting like a maniac all week. What’s gotten into you?"

"What are you talking about?” Joe asks, feigning innocence, laying back and straightening his spine, the arch of his ribcage rising above his flat stomach, his sharp hip bones. “You just happened to walk in here while I was stretching."

“You’re doing it here on purpose to screw with me!"

”The world doesn't revolve around you, you’re being paranoid.”

John just groans in frustration. 

“Am I? And what about now? You pressing your foot against my crotch is just my paranoia?"

“Don't talk to me like I'm a molester.” Joe grins at him as he takes up the Z-position to stretch his hip muscles.

“Then stop acting like one!”

Joe casually leans ahead, forearms resting on the floor.

"You enjoyed it, I could feel it. You also flashed me the other day, making me run into my room to jerk my fucking dick off, and now you're acting like a nun."

"You almost busted us!"

"Oh yeah, _I_ almost did, and you had nothing to do with it," Joe taunts in his most irritating teenager voice. "Nothing at all."

"How many times must I tell you to bugger off?"

Holy shit, now he's blaming the kid for his own lack of willpower. That's a new low.

“I still want you.” Joe is not smirking anymore as he stands up.

John scoffs.

“You don't know what you want. You want Josh and you want me, you don’t care about the consequences, you care about nothing-”

Why does Joe step so fucking close to him now?

“Of course I know what I want!” Joe says, voice low and tense. “That’s all I really know, and it's not Josh. It's bad in itself that I want to sleep with my own godfather, but you're making it even more difficult for me with your-"

" _I'm_ making it difficult for _you?"_ John can't believe his fucking ears. "You can't even imagine what you're dragging me through! You could break up my marriage, I could go to jail, this is not a game!"

Red, green and brown, pink and white.

Such a colorful boy...

Joe's eyes are dark.

"It's not true that I don't care about anything. I could never betray you, I could never do something that hurts you. Believe me, I'm careful. Everybody knows about my crush, that's why they don't take it seriously. You say I know nothing. So teach me the things I don’t know.”

John's hands are trembling as he rubs his forehead.

"What do you want from me?"

Joe's eyebrows are furrowed, his eyes shiny.

"I wa- I want a night with you. I want your hands on my body, and your lips on mine-"

The promised land, right within an arm's reach. John prays for fainting, for a release, any kind of release.

“Please don't do this to me, Joe, please-”

"Why not?” Joe whispers. “I know you want it, you want me."

“It’s not about what we want, Joe… What would your parents think? If they found out about us..." John's cold fingers brush Joe's hair from his forehead. "...I could never see your beautiful face again."

Joe touches his hand with something like the shadow of desperation behind the lust in his eyes.

“I know you're scared, but no one has to know. We can be careful-”

“Hah, you don't know what that is,” John looks up at the ceiling. He would be disappointed in him for being so naive if they weren't in this together. “It’s obvious that something’s off, and it’s getting dangerous. We've been lucky so far but there are so many of us here and everybody's watching. Tone it down. Please. I ask you as an adult-”

He can't finish. Joe suddenly steps away when they hear footsteps approaching on the stairs, and looks at his brother grinning at them as he passes in front of the room with a sandwich in his hand. 

John looks after him, too, before turning to his godson, sobering up a little.

“See? It’s so easy to get caught. I could lose my family... How would you feel if you weren’t allowed to be with your family?"

Joe has disappointed resignation on his face. He stands there for a while, watching John before stepping to him, his hand gentle and soft on his cheek, and John closes his eyes at the caress of a thumb.

"If you really don't want this, won't have me," Joe whispers, sounding sincere, "then say it now. Say it, and I'll leave it as it is and never talk about it again."

Stop it now, before it’s too late.

_No._

Now's the chance. A chance to end this.

_No…_

This reckless, wild, untamed spirit...

John catches Joe's hand, just as Joe starts to pull away, slowly lifting it to his lips, feeling the boy's skin, the sinews as it's tensing, his green eyes pulling him deeper, deeper into this dark vortex. His mind is empty, his soul is weak.

Joe looks wide-eyed at him, watching John's lips opening and briefly nipping his palm before John realizes what's happening. He lets go of Joe's hand, his heart pounding as he turns and leaves.

 

He sneaks outside for a smoke or two to the back of the cottage.

His heart is still beating rapidly, and he lights two cigarettes at the same time, hands trembling, inhaling deeply. Only the crickets and the faint sound of the others can be heard from the inside, and he once again finds himself staring at the stars.

He’s fucking sober, yet his legs are shaking and he can barely hold the cigarettes between his fingers.

He can feel himself calling him, no matter how hard he tries to resist; his mind and his heart have already opened for him, waiting, needing, inviting-

And he can hear his call, and he’s approaching.

He prepares for more scolding, more begging, more protesting. He gathers his conscience, his sobriety. His morals, any amount that’s left of them. He counts and calculates the cost of the prize.

All in vain. 

He hears footsteps, indeed, he doesn’t even have to look to know who it is. He recognizes the rhythm and the volume, the sush of clothes, the faint, characteristic scent, and he stubs out his cigarettes before blowing out the rest of the smoke.

He holds his breath as time stands still. 

John catches the features of the predator in the moonlight, the pointy nose and sharp face of the young red fox hunting for a mate, he senses the primal anger of wanting to fuck, and he stands there with arms open, ready for damnation. 

And the predator catches him, grabs him by the shoulders, growling in the night, and John is hunted down, the teeth of his little fox sinking into the flesh of his neck, and he moans, a similar guttural, animalistic sound, faint in the darkness.

He’s in a magic dream, he has to be, he can find no other explanation. Joe’s hands are digging into John’s waist under his shirt, the boy’s whole body is clashing against his so John’s back hits the wooden wall, and Joe grunts onto his mouth, grunts so much filth that John wants to cover his lips to shut him up and beg him to never stop talking.

Joe tells him he can't stand it anymore, as he's weaving his web around John like a spider around the fly.

He tells him that he makes him lose his mind, as he bites into John’s lips.

He tells him he's been haunting his dreams for ages, as he rhythmically thrusts his hips into John's.

He tells him he’s wanted him ever since he can remember, and asks him to tell him he wants him, too, as he reaches down to John’s crotch.

John must be dreaming, otherwise he wouldn’t be doing it, he wouldn’t be grabbing Joe’s face and kissing him until he tasted copper and tongue inside their rough, bruising kiss, he wouldn’t be pulling the boy's hair or shoving his hands into the shorts to grope that firm, round arse, Joe’s half-moan, half-growl wouldn’t be like fuel on his fire, he wouldn’t let Joe do what he’s doing now, biting John's ear and whispering “don't you see I was made for you?", and John wouldn’t be groaning and sinking his fingernails into the boy’s buttocks; except this one's not a dream, oh no, and Joe moans, he moans louder than John as he’s stroking John through his trousers-

John smacks Joe's hand away and hooks his fingers in the hem of Joe's shorts, wanting, _needing_ to touch, to feel skin. "What are you doing to me, you little devil," he growls, licking that barely developed Adam's apple as he grabs Joe's sweet, slender cock, pulling it against his own clothed one, his other hand running under the shirt over the burning, young skin. "You're killing me, you're tearing me apart," one, two, three movements and Joe's already arching and coming, his cum splashing onto John's hand, his moan fades on John's tongue as John swallows it like the fire consumes the forest, and he hungrily licks his palm to savour Joe's maddening taste, wondering whether it will give him eternal life. The boy's long, trembling fingers are wrapping around him, and without realizing, John is coming, too, falling backwards into a black hole, passing through the event horizon where there's no turning back from-

Then his senses warn him, a sharp thin line in the back of his mind, he hears someone approaching and he pushes Joe away so hard that the boy falls on the grass, and John almost stops to help him up but that sharp thin line just keeps pulsating and zigzagging, and he runs away, runs away as a prey would flee until its last breath, even as he realizes there's no one there but his own fears.

 

It's late.

He's striding around in circles at the lakeside, pulling his hair and hitting trees, and he would scream too if only he was alone.

But he's never alone, while he's oh so alone, no one by his side to slap him out of it, no one to cleanse his mind of that fiery little demon.

_Joseph- help me-_

It's late. He's already lost it. His pulse is speeding up and his palms are sweating and warmth floods his loins whenever he thinks of him. 

He wants to take that crazy teen heart in his hand and feel it beating, wet and red. He wants to wrap that golden soul around himself like an invisibility cloak.

_Freddie, please-_

He looks up at the window with the faint light like in a fever. He's up there. He's there, so maddeningly close yet not close enough, even if he was under his skin he still wouldn't be close enough, and he's willing and waiting.

Next to that room, there is his wife in the dark, probably sleeping, probably waiting. Loving. Trusting.

_Help me, Ronnie-_

He crouches down and hides his face in the bend of his elbows, whining like a wounded animal.

It's late.

 

He sneaks to Joe’s room with a bowl of strawberries, like a teenager to his lover behind their parents' backs. 

Not that this movie night is a secret. Joe has told everyone that he wants to watch a movie with John so no one would bother them.

Of course, John didn't believe it for a second that it's only about that.

He inhales deeply.

Joe opens the door at his knock, only clad in his boxers and a t-shirt. 

“John?" Joe looks surprised, but also not surprised. Angry and adoring, inviting and dismissive. "You came.”

"I came."

Joe observes him before standing aside and letting him in, he even lets out a small smirk as John quietly locks the door behind himself.

John leaves everything outside.

God, it's so hot in here, and he doesn’t mean the temperature.

Joe stares at him as if he already gave up on him, not making a move, not initiating anything, even though all of his pores are screaming of desire. John knows Joe still wants him. He can see it. He can smell it. The strange trance he feels around Joe has returned again, and it's better than weed. It's better than cocaine. It's like acid and ecstasy combined.

John quietly moves closer to him, breaking the silence.

“Do you enjoy torturing an old man like that?” 

Joe smirks, eyes twinkling. He seems to be constantly high on life, and John begins to understand how that feels. 

“Do you think you're the only one being tortured here?”

“Yet you’re the one who started it all.”

“And boy, is it exhausting. I’m not even sure if it's worth it, old man.” Joe steps closer, too. One inch.

John grins like he just took every drug he’s ever taken and threw a shot on top of each.

They are flirting. And damn, it feels good.

“Putting me all through this to get cold feet now?”

“I seem to recall you pushing me away not so long ago.” Joe moves his eyes all over John's body.

John understands what it means. It means _I want you to want me without the despair._

“It was because you are…” John stops, looking down at the boy, observing him, attuned to the constant, strange vibration coming from inside him. “...dangerous.”

Joe stares at him provocatively, some bitter darkness in the depth of his eyes. He lifts his hand, running a finger over John's collar.

“Am I?”

“Like a hurricane.”

They are incredibly close.

“Yet you just wind me up, and then dismiss me in a second.” Joe gently scratches John’s nape with his fingernails.

"Isn't that what you do, too?"

Joe scoffs, a finger ghosting across the side of John’s neck.

"Oh, no, John. I've been going exactly after what I want."

"You have no shame." John's hand finally wanders to Joe's waist. Slender...

Joe's voice is hoarse. "I can't help it. You make me crazy and scared. I just want to know… what do you think of me? What exactly am I to you now?" 

John opens his mouth, surprised.

"You're my godson."

"Aaand…?" Joe tilts his head.

“And you are…” John reaches out to tentatively touch Joe’s face with the back of his fingers, feeling the soft fluffs of his cheek. Smooth... Joe closes his eyes as John whispers the first thing that comes to his mind. "You're the most ridiculously breathtaking thing I've ever laid my eyes upon."

Joe’s eyes flick open, shining like a pair of emeralds. John smiles at him before patting his head.

“So, you want to watch that movie or what?”

Joe blinks at him a little confusedly at the switch in topic before smiling with his one-sided, devilish grin.

“Yeah.”

“What exactly are we watching?” John asks as he casually sits on Joe’s bed, expecting a psychothriller mindfuck or something X-rated, or both. Definitely something forbidden.

The boy turns towards him, chuckling, with a DVD case in his hand.

_Dirty Dancing._

John processes the fact before breaking out in laughter. 

“Really…? Joe, that is so... _gay.”_

“Gay?” Joe asks, biting his lip. “That’s a funny thing to hear from _you.”_

“What do you mean?”

“Well, considering you had me in your hand quite literally-”

John grins. “I'm only teasing you. C’mere.”

Joe cuddles against his side like he did so many times when he was a kid, the feeling familiar. The warmth of his shoulders under John’s arms, the tickling of his hair on his ear, the scent of hormones and shampoo. 

Of course, John’s seen the movie before, but Joe apparently hasn’t, and asks many things about what’s about to happen. (“I won’t spoil it for you.”) They are chuckling at the funny parts, admiring the dancers, and Joe relentlessly comments on Patrick Swayze’s butt and Jennifer Grey’s boobs and nose. 

“She’s hot. I love weird noses, like yours,” he adds, laughing and holding John’s wrist when he flicks him in the forehead.

By the time the movie’s over, Joe is lying pressed against John's side, his lips slowly, tenderly brushing his neck, almost absentmindedly. John closes his eyes as the ending credits are playing, enjoying the tickling sensation.

“Could you lift me up like that Johnny guy did with the girl, Disco Deaky?” Joe chuckles into John’s ear, breaking the spell. He suddenly pulls John up by his hand and jumps in his arms, and John groans.

“You’re too heavy for that, my boy.” He holds Joe by the thighs, and Joe wraps his legs and arms tightly around him, clinging onto him like a kid. Like a lover. John slowly spins themselves around with closed eyes.

"Maybe you're just not strong enough," Joe teases, then hops down and takes John's hand, his other hand on his shoulder, pulling him into a slow waltz, all giggly and lightweight. Joe has a really great sense of rhythm - he’s coming from a dancer family after all. He lets John lead him for a while before switching hands and taking up the lead role himself. It’s funny because Joe is short, but then the boy lays his head on John’s shoulder, hugging him, and John presses a kiss to the top of his head.

It reminds him of a wedding they attended when Joe was a child, and he pulled John into a silly little dance onto the dance floor, much to everyone's amusement. One of the last times they met, he remembers.

Joe's always had him wrapped around his finger.

It's weird how fast the mood can switch back and forth between familial and romantic. Joe lifts his head, looking in John’s eyes, searching, and he might see the answer he wants, because he stands on tiptoes, his lips gently touching John’s for a moment before retreating. 

John has his eyes closed for a few more seconds, the memory of the tiny kiss lingering, and when he opens them he sees Joe blushing at him nervously. He’s adorable, in a juvenile, awkward, sexy way, and John goes weak in the knees.

He can feel his fears and morals evaporating like summer fog.

Time to give the boy what he wants. 

Time to take from the boy what he wants, what he offered him so willingly.

Without despair, without ugly anger and feral lust.

He's already dug his grave, he might as well lay into it now. He’s pretty damn sure he’s going to hell anyway. 

And nobody has to know about this...

“Joe," he says, gently stroking the boy’s lips with a thumb, admiring the fullness, the texture, the color. "Can I kiss you back?”

Joe shivers, looking at him with wonder in his eyes.

“Yes,” he says, fast and hopeful, “please, kiss me.”

John smiles as he lifts Joe’s chin up and slowly presses his mouth onto the boy’s.

It’s soft and electrifying like a Christmas sparkle on his lips, and Joe snuffs, hard, his hands grabbing John's shirt on his back, his lips parting for him, and John plants tiny, open-mouthed kisses on them.

It's done.

He’s reciprocating, intentionally. Not just going with the flow. No, he wants it, with his mind, with his soul, not just with his body.

God, how that feels...

They pull apart, looking at each other, and Joe lets out an unbelieving chuckle before grinning widely.

“Wow.”

John smiles, stroking his face. "Want more?"

"Hell yeah!"

That reminds him of something. 

“I forgot!”

John pulls Joe onto the bed, taking the bowl he put aside and what they both forgot about. He picks a strawberry and offers it to Joe, who opens his mouth and eats it from his hand, closing his eyes and humming theatrically.

"Delicious."

John grins, even though his stomach trembles and his hands shake from excitement. Joe takes a berry between his teeth and leans towards John, their lips meeting around the fruit. Joe bites it apart, swallowing his half before flicking his tongue out and licking John's lips like a kitten, and he moans when John opens up for him, gently sucking Joe’s tongue into his mouth and caressing it with his own.

How incredibly sweet this boy is. 

So, this is how perdition tastes like.

Joe looks at him with enchanted eyes, his cheeks flushed, pink juice flowing down the corner of his lips. John licks it off before taking another strawberry in his mouth and feeding it to Joe, and then all of them, one by one, each kiss sweetened even more by the fruit, each kiss deeper until they've eaten the whole bowl like that. 

Joe's hands are tangled in his shirt by then, trying to open the buttons, but John grabs his wrists. Joe looks at him a bit tauntingly, fingering the collar of John’s white summer button-up, slipping under to play with his chest hair. 

"Why are you stopping me now, momma bird?"

The amount of willingness and offering under the smugness turns John on like crazy. 

“You always want to rush everything. Slow down.” He wipes the boy’s chin, laughing a bit at how filthy their kisses have become

“You put on this hot shirt to tease me on purpose, and you expect me to be-” Joe wrinkles his nose at the word, “- _patient?”_

John grins. “Maybe.”

“So are-” Joe gasps when John's hands suddenly slip under his shirt, “are we gonna have sex?”

John's whole body sparkles with electricity at the word, and he softly chuckles at Joe's eager insecurity.

“No,” he whispers, dragging his mouth over Joe's jawline, “unlike before, we're going to make love. I'll show you the difference. But only if you want me to.”

“Do I look like I don't want you to?” Joe's eyes are wide, like he can't believe John would say something like that.

“No,” John smiles, stroking Joe’s face with the back of his fingers. “No, you look very enthusiastic.”

"John." Joe looks serious, and he's hesitating. "Are you really sure?"

Of all times, _now_ he's asking him. John opens his mouth, but it's harder to answer than he thought. 

"I'm- I'm sure. Yes." How come he's not smitten by lightning at this very moment? "But… no one must know."

Joe nods, swallowing. 

"No one will know."

"And only this once." John searches Joe’s eyes with his, looking for answers there. 

Only this once.

Just this once...

Joe nods again, red to his ears, lips trembling.

"As you want."

John leans in to kiss him then, and Joe climbs into his lap in a new wave of passion and energy now that he's got the permission.

John tries not to get hard already. He really tries as they kiss again, long and luscious, deep and wet, but Joe, lanky little Joe is sitting in his lap in the heat of the summer evening and the warm breeze, their whole bodies touching, he hears music playing in the background from a CD that the player's switched to... Everything's perfect and he feels so good.

Joe, of course, notices it.

“Oh. Look who’s impatient.”

“Sorry.” 

"I see the old baby-making engine is still operating with full force." Joe seems very satisfied with his own joke.

"If you keep talking to me like that, I'm going to spank you." John rolls his eyes, but can’t help but grin, his hands on the boy's waist slowly slipping to his butt.

"You think it's a punishment? But it's okay. I’m turned on, too,” Joe whispers, pressing a kiss on his lips. He has his fingertips in John's shirt, tentatively unbuttoning it, pulling and twisting and combing his chest hair, observing his body in awe. 

"You're always turned on." John just stares at him, his enthusiasm, his lust, his eyes full of wonder.

"You're too hot, can't help it. Stop shaming me."

"Is it because of me?"

"Who else?"

John smiles, heart pounding. Fuck, he feels like a teenager again. He feels like everything he's ever wanted is his. He feels like being reborn. Joe is in his lap, only his, for now, his chest heaving, and it's getting heated as now John is tugging on Joe's shirt, exposing him, and Joe lets him. 

John's seen him before but not like this. He slowly drags his hands all over Joe's shoulders and chest and ribs, and Joe is arching his back, seeking, demanding more of his touch.

He’s delicious. He’s smooth. He's eager and willing.

John wants to savour every moment. He wants hours of kissing and slow lovemaking, and he takes what he wants. He leans ahead and tenderly licks Joe's nipples, kisses his collarbones, his fingers settling neatly between the ribs as he licks and caresses him. 

Joe is so squirmy, already an impatient mess, his hard-on really obvious through his thin boxers. John moans. He might be old now, but he still turns this boy on, and it's amazing. It feels like power, and at the same time, protectiveness.

"John, it's been weeks, stop teasing me!" Joe whines like the damn teenager he is, and John finds it adorable.

“Don't rush it, son." Another lick, a tiny bit of teeth, and those sweet small nipples harden even more, and Joe moans, deeper now. Oh, how sensitive this boy is. "Enjoy it.”

Joe bites into his ear in revenge, licking and pulling on it as John rubs against him, sliding his hands all over Joe's body. His skin is so silky against his own hairy chest, it makes him go mad like a drug in his system.

"Fuck…" Joe moans as John's hand wanders down to tease his cock through his boxers, playing him like an instrument, his free arm holding the boy tightly in his lap.

Fuck indeed. John is panting as he's intensely regarding Joe's reactions, and the boy is tensing and arching, pulling John close as if he wanted him to get inside his flesh. He's so hot, and he's so _fucking_ hard, as much as John is… John squeezes him and twists his hand, dragging his lips across Joe's neck.

"How come you make me so hard, sweetheart?” he whispers into Joe's ear, thrusting his hips upward against Joe's. “Feel it? You’re not supposed to turn me on-"

"Ah, fuck, touch me-" Joe moans, the sexiest sound John's ever heard as he finally gives up and shoves his hand into the boy's boxers. He's stroking him, in the back of his mind paying attention not to let them be loud.

He twitches and blushes like molten fire were flowing in his veins when Joe whispers into his ear, covered by the music that's still on.

"I've been jerking off to you every single night since we've been here. From the first day-” 

"Jesus Christ, Joe-" John's hand stops, his face burning against Joe's neck, resuming his stroking only when Joe presses into his hand.

"I imagined the sight of your face as- as you stroke your dick-" Joe's voice is just a shaky whimper. “You, kissing me-"

“God-” John growls into the boy’s ear, he wants to eat him alive, his mouth drooling at the mental picture of his godson wanking at the thought of him. “What else did you imagine while touching this beautiful cock?”

“The- the noises you would make, while you're-" Joe groans, hiding his face in John's hair, "-fucking me-”

_Goddamn-_

John releases Joe just to grab himself, squeezing so hard that the pleasure that threatened to wash over him fades a little.

He hugs the boy, panting. That was super close, he can't believe he almost came untouched like a fucking virgin. Joe is going to kill him with his dirty talk. 

“John…?"

John smiles at him and kisses his face, taking his hand off his clothed cock. “I'm okay. You're so fucking sexy. Show me how you did it.”

Joe’s eyes widen and he looks over himself and back at John again. “You mean…?”

“Yes.”

Joe swallows before climbing off him, lifting his hips and hastily pulling down his boxers.

John’s mouth is watering at the sight of the naked boy, he's watching him like a hawk, feeling his cock straining against his pants. Last time, in the mall, and even in the sauna he wasn’t really paying attention, he was so overwhelmed and confused. But now… He’s watching his godson tentatively taking himself in hand and starting to stroke, he’s watching the shape of his dick, his size, the way his body tenses, the bobbing of his Adam’s apple as he swallows, the trembling of his thin thighs... The slim fingers moving over that pretty boy cock, the balls that are already drawn tight against his body. It feels so dirty to watch, and he can imagine how dirty Joe must be feeling.

“How smooth your young skin is, sweetheart...” he whispers, putting his hand on Joe’s thigh who twitches but keeps stroking, John's lips ghosting over his hip bone. “Your body is so pretty, so nicely toned… How I love it. It’s so soft, it turns me on so-”

“John, ah-”

Joe moaning his name, Joe caressing his hair... He can’t handle it. He kneels over Joe and reaches into his pants, taking out his cock, and he starts touching himself too as Joe looks up, their eyes meeting. Joe stops and stares all over him, eyes wide and John swears he can see his pupils dilating even more. Like he’s looking at the most amazing thing ever.

They watch each other for a few seconds, then, as if they were communicating telepathically, they collide against each other, kissing hard, stopping only to grab and tug off John's remaining clothes.

They fall onto their sides, Joe cradled up in John's arms, their limbs wrapped around each other, the summer breeze through the window cool on their heated flesh. Joe's clawing John's nape and his back, his thigh thrown over John’s waist, and John holds onto his hips for dear life, pulling and pulling and pulling him close, their hard cocks touching and sending sparks across John's spine.

His hands wander all over Joe's body as they kiss; his sinewy limbs and wide shoulders, the slender arch of his waist, his firm, round little buttocks that beg to be grabbed, the flat stomach and oh, that eager, soft-skinned, pink cock against his own, and John would be hypnotized by the sight if he wasn't so enchanted by the boy's face.

His little boy. His little godson...

John's completely lost in Joe's kisses and his quiet whimpers. Finally, he's his. Finally, they are touching like this, naked bodies against each other, and it's so wrong still, still so horribly wrong, but if it's wrong, it shouldn't be feeling this right, this amazing...

Joe must be also overwhelmed by the heat and the lust because his face is burning red, he whimpers and moans helplessly as if it already was too much for him, desperately holding onto John's back. John slows down the thrusting of his hips to just gently rub against him, focusing on the boy's lips, swallowing his little cries.

He’s breathtaking.

"Joe." 

How different that name sounds now from his lips…

Joe's mouth is kiss-swollen and shining, his eyes are black and bottomless.

"Say my name again," he whispers, closing his eyes with a moan of pleasure, the pressure building up in their loins.

John obeys, squeezing him and murmuring his name in his ear over and over, as quietly as he can. "Joe. My little Joe. My sweet darling, let me take care of you, my beauty. My only Joe-" and Joe is panting, his thrusting becoming out of rhythm, fingers clawing into John's waist.

"I- can't hold on-"

John reaches between them, pressing right under the wet head of Joe's cock, and the boy grimaces, his whole body twitching.

“If you squeeze it like this, you can last longer," John whispers in his ear, and Joe curses.

"Ow. Damn."

"I know…" John kisses him on the lips, and Joe is panting against his mouth, sweating.

It feels like they have melted together, Joe's limbs are everywhere, grabbing him, his kisses getting sloppy and full of tongue and out of control, sweat is making the rubbing of their bodies slicker and more pleasurable. John can't take his eyes off Joe's face, and he wonders for a second whether he's fucking died and this is heaven, or is it a drug dream?

He's getting close, too, he'd be there already if he hadn’t already come. The love he's had for the boy ever since he was born is glowing, blowing up like an atomic bomb, transforming into something else. He barely has the breath to tell Joe how he feels. 

”Darling, you can't imagine how I've wanted this…”

"Me too, John… Am I- good-?" Joe whimpers as he reaches down, tentatively brushing his fingertips over the head of John's dick and his own before grabbing and squeezing them together, and John shivers.

"You're amazing," he purrs, stroking Joe's face and kissing his forehead, his sweating hand on his waist, he can see how bright red and wet his pretty cock is. "Go with it, enjoy it. Just feel, ah- feel my cock, feel my lips-"

"John-" Joe is moaning again, eyes squeezed shut, he's so tense he might be coming any second. "You're so hot- ruin me and fuck me and come all over me-"

"Fucking Christ," John growls, grabbing the boy's knees and pushing them apart and rolling him on his back, rubbing his cock against Joe's balls and between his buttocks. Fuck, he'd only need a bit of spit and a few centimeters... 

With a huge effort he pulls away and presses their cocks together again, and that's the end of it, he hears Joe groaning and he feels his cum spurting, and he looks down and he loves the sight so much he follows him a second later, pressing hard against the boy's lap and grunting into his neck as the pleasure paints lights behind his eyelids.

Bloody hell.

John lies on top of the boy before he turns onto his back, panting, and Joe moans, twining his legs with John’s.

“My god,” Joe breathes, and John looks at him, at his blissed face and dizzy grin. “Sex is _awesome!"_

"I hope I did as good as your young lovers," John teases him, patting his cheek.

There is silence, and Joe turns away.

"Joe? I'm just messing with you. Did I say something wrong?"

“John, I've-" Joe just bursts out. John gently turns his scarlet face toward him, questioningly. "I'm-I think I was, until now, maybe I still am, uh- a virgin."

"...you're a what?” John gapes at him like he heard it wrong, and Joe looks aside again.

"I didn't want to tell you, because you might have... chickened out but…"

"Me?" John still has to process the information. He's quite shocked, he couldn’t imagine Joe not being with anyone, he’s way too open and loud, and he bets he's popular, girls and boys lusting over him. “I thought-"

"I know what you thought. But Josh and I only…" Joe turns even redder. John didn't think it was possible. “We, uhm, watched each other, we, uh, compared who can, uh, _shoot_ farther.”

“I— I don't know what to say.”

“Anything you say is fine as long as you stop pitying me."

"I’m not pitying you." John holds him close, and Joe hides his red face in his neck. "Are you sure you wanted the first time to be with me…?”

"Please, can we drop it?!" The begging in Joe's voice is so intense, and John hugs him, and after a while, Joe murmurs. “I’m fucking sure.”

John doesn't know what to say. He's dizzy. He's mortified and stunned. He's proud and honored and happy. He buries his face in Joe's hair. He's never going to let him go, ever.

_Mine._

"Thank you." He pokes Joe. He can’t resist asking him. “Have you been kissed before at all?”

“Of course, I'm not a baby!” Joe indignantly raises his brows, and John chuckles at him, rocking him in his arms.

 

He hates the feeling of coming down. He hates the thoughts that are starting to creep at him as Joe's quietly snoozing in his arms.

He'd rather break a leg than leave the boy alone now, but he really should go back.

To Ronnie.

To his wife.

He can feel the icy grip of guilt, the bitterness of self-hate in the back of his throat, but he swallows them back, at least until he kisses the boy goodnight.

Joe's forehead is damp under his lips, his arms around John's waist, and he tenderly peels them off.

"Goodnight, sweetheart."

"'Night, goddad," Joe murmurs, cuddling his pillow instead.

 

The feelings John managed to contain crash down on him as soon as he's alone in the bathroom.

He watches his own face in the mirror, like it was someone else's, his features foreign, cold, miserable and empty.

Underneath that, he's guilty and frightened.

And underneath that, deep, deep, he's absolutely contented, satisfied, even proud. Like something in his soul knew it was meant to happen. A part of it knew it was going to happen, for who knows, how long. Like an eternal, dark yearning deep inside of him has been finally satisfied by that young, willing flesh.

For now.

He can try to lie, to Joe, to Ronnie, to anyone, but not to himself. Now that he's tasted him, he knows one time won't be enough.

It will never be enough. Never.

He stares for a few more seconds before he spits into his reflection.


	7. You're The Sun That Shines On Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The relationships and dynamics are constantly changing through ups and downs, and John finds an unexpected relief for a pain he didn't know he still had.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning for some mentioned biphobia.

He gradually slips out of sleep, holding a body close, his awakening mind getting filled up with last night's memories, his breath deepening. He's slowly nuzzling a nape, inhaling the scent of home, his hands lazily wandering over a waist, listening to the other body slowly stirring. 

"Mmm…” A soft, sleepy chuckle comes from under the fall of blonde hair. “Are you feeling... playful?"

There are tender curves where he touched planes and hollows last night, his hand is drawing a sine wave alongside the outlines of a still elegant body. A different scent, completely different from last night’s, but oh so sweet.

His hand wanders forward, slipping under the nightgown to cup breasts. 

"Oh, I'm just enjoying the landscape."

How well his wife fits into the bend of his lap.

"You know, I kind of feel like…” Ronnie arches her spine, pressing back against him, her voice is a mischievous whisper, “ _...fucking. _ ”

“Mmm... naughty girl.”

Leaning on his elbow, he kisses her through the curtain of her hair. The touch of a mouth, slightly thinner than used to be, familiar. He could draw it from memory if he wanted, all the shapes it took up with every existing emotion, from the first giggly, shy kiss in the half-light of the disco, to this most recent one.

Lips...

How well his lips fitted last night against those plump young ones. A delicate Cupid’s bow, looking and tasting like the fruit that was bitten in half between their clashing mouths.

He’s being stripped, and he giggles when she mounts him, playfully pinning his arms down.

He closes his eyes to the sensations of lips on his neck.

“Did you have fun with Joe?”

Joe.

He should probably be alarmed, he should feel frightened, but there’s nothing. Just an incredible peace that will surely pass as soon as he’s able to think clearly, as soon as he’s awake enough. But for now, there is nothing but contentment and lust.

Everything is as it should be.

"I did," he breathes, stroking down on her hips and thighs, mapping the stretch marks he knows one by one, he wants to paint them, he loves to kiss them. “We watched Dirty Dancing."

Joe, innocent little Joe. Painting a mental image of how he'd look like this, sitting on John's hips with his long, long legs spread. How his freckled chest would be heaving. How his huge eyes would twinkle.

"That's quite lovely- I thought it was going to be something more violent- or nasty."

Rope-dancing above flames.

Ronnie leans down to kiss him as she's rotating her hips, knowing exactly how to move to hold him back, how to twist to urge him on, how to squeeze to make him go wild.

"Nah, ah- he's not like that."

Joe, little Joe. He'd be so embarrassed under John’s gaze, but so wouldn't want to show it. 

"What’s he like then?"

Faster, faster. He's familiar with the rhythm of her panting, the way her moans are getting high pitched, his fingers are finding the right spots, finding their way home.

"He's-"

John also knows how to make her go crazy. How to make her not think anymore. He thrusts upwards, just at the right angle, and Ronnie bites on his neck as she trembles and moans and clenches, her pleasure vibrating along John's nerve endings, spiraling into his own approaching climax.

Pure little Joe. So easy to please, he barely has to touch him.

He's-

What is he like, indeed?

Ronnie's blonde hair falls down onto his hips like a satiny waterfall, her experienced lips sealing around the head of his cock, and John groans, deep and long, twisting the silkiness of hair between his fingers.

Vivacious?

Joe, his own little Joe, waiting for his instructions, smiling nervously, slim fingers gently wrapped around him.

“You like it, hubby?”

God, she takes him in so deeply then, and all John feels is the wet, hot tunnel of her mouth.

Unpretentious?

_ Am I doing it right- _

Joe’s uncertain, shy face, looking up at him questioningly as he licks, eager to please, eager to learn-

John wants to plunge headlong into that inexperience.

_ -goddad? _

Unrestricted...

John's hips rise from the bed, his heels digging into the mattress as he comes so hard he sees stars, his teeth sinking into the flesh of his lip to trap the moan of a name threatening to escape.

 

He’s lying there, panting, Ronnie’s sweaty body pressed up against him, and there’s a strange tension in his limbs where there should be satisfaction.

He’s not stupid, he wouldn’t even say he’s naive. Maybe ‘optimistic’ is the right word. Or… ‘fool’.

Ronnie knows. 

She definitely knows something is off. How couldn't she? They’ve been married for twenty-five years, and they’ve known each other even longer. How couldn't she be able to sense it on him? To smell it on him? And if she does, why isn't she asking it straight?

Joe…

They both know it’s risky. They called it off. It was only one night.

But…

There’s always a but.

Joe’s smell, lingering in his nose.

It mustn't be repeated.

The memory of Joe wrapped around him, naked and telling him he's about to come is crashing down on him, and there's tingling in his loins already, even though he just came.

Inside his wife.

His wife, who’s been asking him about Joe in the middle of sex, as if trying to catch him off guard.

_ Honey, I don’t want to talk about Joe while having sex,  _ he said.

_ Sorry, I was half-asleep and lost in a train of thought, _ she chuckled apologetically.

What a goddamn hypocrite he is.

What a bad liar she is.

It mustn’t be repeated. It was a one-time thing.

Joe, sweet little virgin Joe. Who gave his body to him, who wanted  _ him _ to be his first, who'd been preparing for it and waiting for it for god knows how long.

There are three of them in the bed at this very moment, and John wants to flee until his lungs and legs give out.

Joe’s slender, untouched body, screaming for John’s.

He must call it off inside his head and in his heart, too, but it’s tricky, because nobody must see the sudden switch between Joe and him. It must be called off-

He’s stuck in quicksand, every movement, every attempt to escape will only pull him deeper.

He’s going to suffocate.

 

John is doing his morning routine when Joe shows up in the bathroom, wearing his boxers and a t-shirt, looking rumpled.

At the flash of his red hair the memories of last night pop up, and John blushes.

“I think it’s time for me to shave, too, can I join you?” Joe asks casually, and John moves aside so they can fit in front of the sink, not interrupting his shaving.

“You sure, Mr. Baby Skin?" he asks, lifting his chin to do his neck as Joe presses some foam in his palm. “You should wet your face first and then let the foam soften your hair a bit. Not that you have too much.”

“Stop mocking me, old man,” Joe grins, but he takes his advice and leans down to wash his face before spreading the foam to make himself a Santa beard.

“Ho, ho, ho.”

John snickers.

He rinses his face, watching as Joe carefully shaves his jaw, and he’s not able to resist the urge to correct him again. “You should shave in the direction of hair growth. Reduces the inflammation.”

“Thanks,  _ Dad, _ ” Joe says, leaning close to the mirror in concentration. He’s grinning as he finishes, rinsing his face. “Whatcha think?”

John stares at him before breaking out in laughter. Joe left on his moustache, and now is watching John’s reaction.

“You look like a twelve-year-old getting the first hairs on his face," John laughs, wiping off his tears and gently pressing a tissue on a cut on Joe’s chin.

“Now, monsieur, stop being rude, ma moustache est très sexy,” Joe jokes, eyes twinkling, taking a towel and draping it over his forearm, bowing in front of John. "Would you like a croissant?" 

He puts his hand on John’s arm as they're both laughing. Joe then quickly shaves off his moustache, and John touches his shoulder to Joe’s as they both look in the mirror, smiling.

"We look good," Joe says. "We look a bit… alike, don’t you think?" 

John observes their faces in the mirror thoughtfully. They indeed have a similar heart-shaped smile, and similar eye wrinkles when they laugh. It’s sweet. It makes him feel… warm.

“We both have huge noses though,” Joe grins.

“Yes, but yours is pointier.” John pokes the tip of the boy’s nose.

“And yours is thicker.” Joe leans close, brushing their noses together.

John smiles. “Are we still talking about noses?”

Joe turns a little red, and John chuckles at him. Joe playfully pushes him away, reaching for the aftershave and grimacing as it stings his cuts. Then he pours some into his palm and pats John’s face with it, leaving his hand lingering there for a while.

“I'd let your old man scruff scratch my baby skin any time," he whispers, very obviously an offering, and John shivers. “Anywhere.”

Now it’s John’s turn to blush, his arms sneaking around Joe’s hips to hold him closer. 

So, Joe doesn't regret last night. 

John doesn't regret it either.

He’s been constantly switching back and forth between fright and peace ever since Ronnie tried to ask what’s going on; but now that Joe’s here, the fear is gone, and so is the flood of emotions he felt in front of this very mirror yesterday. As if a part of his life fell into place, like a piece of a jigsaw puzzle.

“I’d... love that,” he whispers quietly. A secret. He shouldn’t have said it, but he did. “You cheeky little fox."

Joe’s ears are a little pink. "Fox? Because of my hair? Or because I’m-" he whispers in his ear, "- _ foxy _ ?"

John laughs, squeezing him, and Joe purrs contentedly, playfully nuzzling John’s shirt aside to smell his neck. 

“And you are, you are a wolf, right? A big, bad wolf-” 

The purring stops, and Joe tenses in his arms, his waist stiffening.

"Oh." Joe pushes him away, and John is confused, watching the kid’s eyes drifting from his neck to his face and back to his neck. "You've got a hickey there."

John reflexively looks in the mirror. 

Joe’s right. Ronnie has marked him. 

“And it wasn't me, because I was... very careful-”

John holds his breath as his fingers brush over the mark as if wanting to rub it off, before he turns back to his godson.

“Joe…”

“It’s okay!” Joe says unnaturally lightly, smiling sweetly like a poisoned peach as he steps back. “I understand that you’ve got…  _ needs. _ ”

The air is freezing.

“Joe…” John’s voice is more begging than he intends to. “She’s my wife.”

“Oh, I know that,” Joe chants, grabbing a comb from the shelf and rapidly fixing his bed hair. “How could I ever forget. I just, you know… maybe I hoped you’d wait, I don’t know, a day or so before trying to erase last night-”

“It’s not like that-”

“Sure thing, John, I understand. She’s just marking her territory.” Joe smiles, but John catches the glistening of his eyes, and he can feel Joe’s throat clenching like it was happening to him. “You better be careful before someone figures out something.”

Joe turns and leaves, greeting with a loud “hi, Josh!” in the corridor and storming downstairs.

No, no. He can't lose him. He can't lose what they have-

Not thinking reasonably, not thinking at all, John's first instinct is to go after him and grab his hand and pull him in his arms and tell him there's no one like him-

He stops mid-movement like he got punched. The weight of the thought just sinks in, and he comes back to his senses, trying to calm down.

He holds onto the basin once again, his knuckles whitening. He doesn't dare to look in the mirror, he just watches the leftover shaven stubble in the sink, his own, mixing with Joe's.

 

He goes down to the dining room when he's gathered his courage. 

All of the others are downstairs. Mary is reading a law book to prepare for her college admission, and Josh is busy putting together a five-storey sandwich. Ronnie’s making her coffee at the sink (Turkish, boiled with cardamom and one tablespoon of sugar, as always), humming, Joseph and Ginnie are drinking their juices, shoulder to shoulder. Luke and Cam are eating on the floor above a coloring book, arguing over the color of some superhero’s costume. Cam is screaming to get his point across as Luke covers his ears.

John briefly grins before searching for Joe with his eyes. 

The boy is sitting on the sofa with his brother, cross-legged, a half-eaten sandwich hanging from his mouth as they’re playing Mario Kart on the TV. He curses as he’s getting beaten, and John smiles inwardly. Joe is such a teenager, all long legs and sulky lips, taking the game too seriously. 

He doesn't let his eyes linger too much on him, even though every thread of his nerves is attuned to him.

“Morning.”

He sits down to the table, pressing a quick kiss on his wife's lips.

“Oh my, would you look at that!” Joseph yells at him, pointing out the hickey, and John twitches. “Looks like someone had an eventful night!”

Ginnie looks at the love bite too before grinning and high fiving Ronnie. (“Gross,” Mary whispers to Josh, who also looks a little disturbed.) 

Joseph winks at him. An eventful night, eh? John wants to sink under the ground. He doesn't know how he’ll be able to look into his friend’s eyes. Or anyone's.

He’d rather eat a fistful of wasps than to look in Joe and John's direction, but he can practically feel his godson fidgeting even more, pressing the buttons extra forcefully and angrily.

John takes a knife to make himself a sandwich. There’s no use descending to hell on an empty stomach.

“Any plans for today?” Ginnie asks them. “You said you bought a camera, Ronnie. Do you want to take some photos?”

“Yes, I brought a polaroid one. I found some photo papers at home and I want to use them,” Ronnie says, playing with her coffee mug, having already finished her breakfast.

“I have a digital one, I brought it so I can test it out. I’m curious what it can do,” John says as Ronnie’s eyeing him. He can’t take the tension anymore. He must act normal. Must act normal… “Do any of you want to join? Maybe act as a model?”

Ginnie sighs theatrically. “I’d love to! I used to be modeling for friends, good old times. Do you want to come, Joe?” She asks, probably expecting Joe wanting to spend more time with his godfather.

“Boring!” Joe snaps, not taking his eyes off the TV screen, leaning right as his digital car takes the turn. “Taking photos of trees and faces? I’d rather do something more active, like hiking or swimming or I don’t know.”

“We can take pictures  _ while  _ hiking!”

“Fine.” Joe curses as his car explodes, and Joseph yells at him to watch his language in front of the kids, quickly escalating into a fight.

Ronnie still observes John as he eats his sandwich, and John smiles at her, poking her on the nose, the bite savourless in his mouth.

He's caught in the crossfire. 

He’s got a feeling that he'll have to have a few conversations eventually.

 

Joe didn't go with John and the others to take photos - he declared that he didn't feel like it and retreated into his room to sulk and blast some music on full volume.

He’s been acting super bratty since their shared night. 

Grimacing behind Ronnie’s back whenever she gives John an innocent kiss. Rolling his eyes as John is chilling on the couch, resting his arm behind his wife.

Coming over to him when he's out at the lake preparing for his jog, giving him heated looks, making ambiguous comments about his body, mocking his workout routine as always. He takes his shirt off and orbits around John half-naked, but never touching him. 

“I see I still turn you on,” Joe teases, acting like he’s surprised by the effect of his scent and his sight on John, giving him a little smirk when he senses his arousal.

John sighs as he scratches his head, extremely tired of all this, his constant boner, his consuming guilt. “That was never a question. Why do you keep torturing me?”

“‘Cause I hate how close you are with her,” Joe says without any inhibitions.

”Joe, she's my wife." John rubs his chin, trying to talk some sense into Joe although he understands how he feels deep down. How they both feel. "I have children with her. Of course we are close-” 

Joe scoffs. "I know that, for fuck's sake."

"Yet you're acting like a jealous toddler."

"And you're acting like a selfish bastard!"

Joe looks at him with burning eyes, and John throws his hands in the air, losing his patience. "Hey, that’s not fair! You wanted to get into my pants in the first place-"

"Well, now that's the last place I wanna be," Joe shouts, throwing his shirt in John's face and leaving.

All of this because Ronnie kissed him on the mouth earlier. 

Goddamn brat.

John sighs. He’ll have to talk to the kid when they‘ve both calmed down. 

 

Joe’s sulking by himself at the lakeside that evening, earphones in, his whole body language saying  _ leave me alone, especially if you're John.  _ John half-smiles as he approaches the boy.

Joe looks at him for a few seconds, painfully grimacing when John, keeping a safe distance, sits down next to him.

They are not alone, but everyone is far away enough not to hear them.

“Hello.”

“Hey,” Joe barks, not taking his earphones out, not looking at him, and John can hear some terrible teenager pop music playing from them. “Don’t you wanna sit at the other side of the lake instead?”

John observes him.

“Are you that mad at me?”

Joe looks at him, his brows rising like he was surprised at the question.

“I'm not  _ mad. _ ” 

“Aren't you?”

“No.”

He indeed looks more… sad.

A pang of guilt stabs John’s already tormented heart.

Silence. Joe is staring away from him, staring at the lake glistening in the sunset. John doesn’t know how he can hear him through the blasting music, but he can. John keeps pushing it.

“Joe,” he tries again, gently taking out an earbud. “Please look at me.”

There’s pain and heartbreak in those eyes where he expected jealousy.

“I’m sorry, Joe. I never meant to hurt you.”

“Thanks, I guess,” Joe says dryly, but John can see him getting a bit teary.

“I’m truly sorry.”

“Are you talking about the night with me or the night with Ronnie?”

John sighs.

“Joe, you know that-

Joe raises a hand.

“It’s okay, John. Really.” He looks at him before staring into the distance again. “I never wanted to take you away from… your family.”

John waits.

“It’s just—” Joe fidgets, his voice is thin. “Was I that bad that you had to—”

Bad? How could he think that?

“Bad? Joe…” The kid looks at him, a little worried about what John might say, insecurity in his eyes. John looks around before continuing, his voice low. “It was wonderful, every waking second of it. I'm extremely honoured.”

“Really?” Now Joe has disbelief and suspicion in his eyes, and John wants to hold him close.

Instead, he leans against the boy’s shoulder for a second, not sure if he's supposed to, but he can't help himself.

“Really. It was… magical.” Such a big word, and Joe smirks at it. “It’s still all I can think about, and nothing can erase it. I swear.”

Joe finally smiles, a genuine, honest smile as he loosens up a bit. 

“Do you believe me?” John asks.

“I do. You're a terrible liar, you big bad wolf,” Joe smiles before turning serious again. “And you should be more careful. I don't think that hickey was... accidental.”

“I'm trying.”

“Try harder. Because- she… approached me."

John's blood is draining from his face.

"What did-"

"Oh, nothing direct," Joe says, voice low. "She was very subtle. Asking me how I'm doing, if I get along with you… Telling me how you two are having fun here, how it wasn't always like that, and how happy you two are nowadays…"

John’s mouth dries out.

"And you-?"

"Oh,  _ I _ can act, I downplayed it," Joe whispers, putting a guilty smile on his face, reenacting the scene.  _ "'I'm sorry if I'm clingy, he's a rockstar, you know, and it’s awesome, and I kinda missed him and it's fun to see him again and learn new things from him…' _ Stuff."

John's heart is beating rapidly, and he really wants to crawl into a hole to cry and never come out.

“Joe,” he says after a while, and the boy shifts closer to him, shoulder to shoulder, and John feels his scent, of sweat and summer and… and Joe. “You know…?”

“That it was a one-time thing? Yes." Joe's voice is deep and low as if he's gotten older during the night, older and more mature. “I didn't forget it. I'd be lying if I said I don't want it again, though.”

John inhales.

"What I wanted to ask is if you know how much it meant to me. And I want it again, too, god knows I do. But we mustn't.”

“Yeah.”

John tenderly touches Joe's shoulder blade, the temptation of the body underneath a thin layer of clothing, blunting the shock; he thinks he could almost feel the skin again if he concentrated hard enough; if only he squeezed harder, he could feel the skin that blushes so easily, a skin so unbearably soft that it's almost like-

“We should part now," Joe says, his breathing slightly elevated. Like John’s. 

Barely touching, yet still feeling like lovemaking.

“Right.” He takes off his hand, and Joe softly nods. “Want to take photos tomorrow? You didn't come with us this morning."

“Maybe. I’ll try to pretend it's fine,” Joe says, smiling the saddest smile in this blue hour before standing up, and John doesn't dare to look after him as he leaves.

 

So John and Joe are waltzing around each other again, but this time, it’s different.

Different, because this time is not about wanting and running away and chasing and hunting and fleeing. No, this time it’s mutual. A mutual want, and the promises are sizzling between them, as if the air was filled with static electricity that could discharge even at the slightest touch of fingertips on skin.

And Joe is smiling at him occasionally as they are waltzing, and John smiles back, and he doesn't even know what can be seen or cannot be seen on them, but they are not touching again, no, as long as there's no proof they are safe, because feelings can be denied.

They can be denied.

Joe is smiling at him with his fox-like face - how come John hasn’t realized before what a sharp little fox face he has, especially when he’s smiling at him with  _ that _ smile, that smile that knows and promises and remembers their shared secret, that lasts only for half seconds before anyone can notice. The smile that appears between causal chitchats, between snapping photos and trying to figure out the best setting for a macro photo on the new digital camera, between two jumps into the warm summer water, between two hide and seek games with the children, between every snarky banter among the siblings.

Joe acts like nothing wrong has happened, that they did nothing shameful, and it makes John calmer, too. The rest of their families suspect nothing. It's okay.

John sometimes catches Josh staring longingly at Joe from above his book, watching him running around. John turns away then with a slight pang of guilt and the slight pinch of sorrow, and even at the slight stab of pride.

Joe’s his. Joe wants him, and only him, even though he could have his young and beautiful son.

He’s disgusted with himself.

But his love for Joe is old and stable, it has always been there, transformed from paternal into this new, strange one. It's pure and innocent above everything else. A mentor and student connection, and also, a friendship. 

And yes, it’s full of lust, too.

How could love be wrong?

Joe follows him around as they are testing out John’s new camera, taking pictures of plants and portraits while John explains the shutter speed and aperture and exposure. Joe has an excellent eye for unique angles and compositions, especially when taking photos of the others, catching them at their most expressive moments. 

John is watching Joe as he takes portraits of Ginnie's perfect toothed laughter under a summer hat as she presses it to her head against the wind; Mary's awkward adolescent beauty as she's reading a magazine in a tanning bed, winking at his brother; moments of Joseph's silly dancing with Ronnie, Josh's fragile smile and fiery hair; John's, his brother's hands dirty from gardening; the children wrestling.

Joe even steals ("borrows", as he said) Ronnie's Polaroid, taking a picture of himself pressing a kiss on John's face when nobody's looking. "It's for the wall of my future apartment," Joe says, and John grins.

He teaches Joe everything he knows, and Joe’s face, eager to learn, eager to learn from him are worth gold. Joe even looks up things on the internet and shows John the new techniques and tricks he's found.

And John watches Joe as they are racing, Joe’s exertion and panting as the water’s glistening on his shoulder when he manages to outpace John; or when playing at a family game night, sitting a bit too close and giving each other innocent little squeezes when they win, when in reality they both just want to collapse on top of each other and roll around and kiss. 

It's a new territory with an old friend.

Together, they could be unstoppable. Invincible. 

John hushes away this last thought.

 

But sometimes it’s overwhelming, and he's torn between two worlds, and he wonders if others can sense something has changed.

Ronnie certainly does. He feels her gaze on his back whenever Joe is near; but John always smiles at her and hugs her and kisses her like nothing happened, and Ronnie always relaxes into his embrace. 

John observes his soul.

His heart doesn’t beat any less for his wife. 

He sleeps with her at every opportunity. It feels good, it comes naturally, and it makes him feel less stressed, and for a short time, makes him forget about his sin - the sin that is Joe. 

And yes, maybe he also feels like he makes it up to her by doing this. They talk and laugh and have fun with their children, they go hiking and have long walks around the lake, just the two of them…

Similarly, having sex with Ronnie doesn't make him love Joe any less. He enjoys the boy’s company, his jokes, his presence; even if he sometimes recalls the warmth of his touch and the shade of his hair when he’s alone. 

In his heart, these two types of love complement each other so well. 

For the first time in many years, he feels like something that was already perfect has become even more whole. He feels complete, like he’s only felt a few times before. He feels loved and accepted.

As the days pass, he becomes even more relaxed, even… happy. He's loved by two people, and it feels natural, almost as if he deserves it. He could get used to it.

Though... In the back of his mind he can’t fool himself. He knows he’s being selfish, he knows this situation is not natural and not honest, but for a few blissful days he can believe that he won’t have to choose. That he won't have to let one half of his heart die to keep the other. That he will be able to have both worlds.

He’s selfish, and he cannot help it.

All's right with the world.

And that they have to keep a part of it a secret? It’s a small price.

 

John also wonders if the others can sense that the nature of the constant vibration between them has changed.

Joseph does.

One day, the two of them are grilling meaty foods: pork and sausage with lots of beer at the lakeside, surrounded by wives and children. They are talking about the weather and politics and what's going on around the world; arguing about which country has the best beer, or arguing in the soccer versus football debate, reminiscing of the good times, the childhood vacations, the wacky adventures of their youth. They laugh and pat each other on the shoulder as they are trying to outdo each other in weird dad jokes and pranks, much to the annoyance of their kids.

And later, when the two of them are alone, Joseph thanks him.

John, Joseph, Josh, and Joe are out on the boat, fishing.

It's quiet and calm, and Joe absentmindedly picks his fingernails before whining “boooring”, asking Josh to race with him to the shore; and Josh does, they throw themselves into the lake, splashing their dads before disappearing underwater.

John’s left alone with Joseph.

“He can't chill for a second, can he,” Joseph says lovingly as they both watch them pop up farther in the water.

John speculates how much Joseph can sense. His friend talks to him and jokes with him as he's always done, and John observes him, analyzing his own feelings now that he’s given in to the temptation. 

A part of him hates himself for having to pretend and lie to his best friend. He betrayed him by sleeping with his son, his underage son; and yes, Joe said he's of the age of consent, but… It's still on the very edge of taboo.

Oh, he thinks. You'd be surprised what you can live with.

"Thank you," Joseph asks, smiling at him, and John blinks.

"For what?"

“For taking care of Joe. He’s gotten much calmer in the past few days. Did you have a good talk with him? What was his problem? His crush?”

Heat flashes John's face. 

“I don't think so. I tried to ask, but he was quite dismissive.” There will be a time when  _ Joe  _ will take acting lessons from  _ him. _ God, how he hates lying, and hates how naturally it’s starting to come. “I guess he’s only needed to spend some time with me. We watched a movie, you know, and talked a lot… hung out, hiked, took photos...”

“I’m glad you're there for him," Joseph says, apparently not noticing the raspiness of John's voice as he's watching Joe’s red hair glistening nearer to the shore now, followed closely by Josh's. “I couldn’t wish for a better godfather for him, and a better influence. But if he ever makes you feel uncomfortable, please, just tell me, and I’ll talk to him."

“No, it’s okay."

John wants to sink underwater like Joe and never come up again.

“Why are you so red now?" Joseph laughs, patting his leg, and John can't help but compare Joseph’s hand to Joe's for a second. “Just take the compliment, geez!”

Oh, how the rational half of him loathes himself now as he chuckles, embarrassed and guilty.

But his other half... the other half of him suddenly feels like another piece has fallen into place. 

Joe was given to him by this man, and he feels a twisted love and gratefulness for Joseph as he looks into his friend's smiling face, a smile that glows almost as bright as his son’s.

His world is even more complete now, because he's never loved Joseph as much as he loves him now that he’s given him this perfect child. 

A gift from his best friend, only for him.

How he wishes he were only going crazy.

 

He doesn't expect the sudden rush of desire and longing that hits him one afternoon.

That afternoon, he’s pacing around like a caged animal.

That afternoon when Joe is cooking by himself.

Joe told everyone he needs some alone time to “get creative and make himself useful”, so he’s locked himself in the kitchen and refuses to let anyone it until dinner is ready. He even put out drinks for them in front of the door in an icebox. “I’m not here!” he yells whenever someone is knocking, ignoring his sister’s and brother’s complaining about wanting some snacks before dinner. 

So John and the others are hanging outside, sunbathing and doing crossword puzzles, reading and swimming. Ronnie took the kids shopping and for a visit to the fair in the village, and the whole afternoon is a drawn-out pile of boredom. 

John is bored without them and empty without Joe.

Jogging is boring. Fishing is lame. Playing the guitar is uninteresting.

It’s like a sickness there’s no cure for, except-

He sneaks over to the kitchen, listening inside for a second, trying the handle and somehow being able to open it.

Maybe Joe forgot to lock the door.

Maybe he left it open for him.

He quietly slips in, locking the door from the inside.

Joe is cooking, a sweaty t-shirt sticking to his shoulders and narrow waist, intensely wiggling his hips to the rhythm of the music that can be faintly heard through his earphones, flatly singing as he stirs vegetables in the pan, the higher notes of his voice making John grin.

John is drinking in the sight of those muscles tensing rhythmically, shoulder blades protruding with each movement of the spoon in Joe’s hand, his figure highlighted by the vapour pouring from the pan.

The smell of the food, spices, sauce, and meat is intoxicating, mixing with the dampness of Joe’s skin, the smell of his pheromones, the scent of his hair still sticky from the lake, the playfulness of summertime when you're barely dressed. John inhales deeply, his stomach growling in hunger, his loins aching with desire, his mouth grinning at the sweetness of Joe’s innocence and watering at the sight of his body giving in to the music.

The urge is strong, mixed desires leading him towards one goal. He wants to taste the food that Joe's cooking. He wants to kiss the boy and feed him fruit again, mouth to mouth, tasting the bite on his heavenly lips. He wants to see the contented smile on his face he always has after a good meal, and then he wants to lay him over the counter and eat off his naked body until his lips and tongue touch bare skin-

He can't resist, sneaking up to him like a predator, and Joe jumps, letting out a little squeak as he's startled by John’s touch, but relaxes as soon as he realizes it's him. John puts his hands on Joe’s shoulders, smiling as the kid’s free hand closes over his wrist.

"There you are," Joe murmurs softly as he leans his head back against John’s shoulder, melting into his arms.

"Here I am," John answers. The aching longing gets stronger with every passing second he's holding Joe in his embrace, digging his nose into his hair and smelling him, feeling Joe’s muscles against his belly, the curve of his butt pressing to his crotch, John’s wandering fingers tracing hip bones, playing in the hollow of a navel.

Joe is gently rocking against him, pulling one earbud out of his ear, reaching back to put it into John’s, and they dance a little to the music that's now switched to Dancing Queen.

“ABBA, really? Do you like them?”

Joe just chuckles, and John pushes himself even closer, humming together with Joe, planting small, wet kisses, tender little bites on his nape, feeling him shivering deliciously in his arms, hearing him moan quietly as he takes one earlobe between his lips to gently nip.

"John-" His name is hardly more than a breath, but it almost blinds him with the amount of passion and longing in it, and he moans at the feeling of wanting and being wanted in return.

"Joe," he whispers back, nuzzling Joe’s ear with his nose, his fingers sliding under the t-shirt until he can feel a warm, flat stomach, the smooth planes of a chest. "Joey," he murmurs an endearment because he can't help it, not even minding that they could be busted any second. All that matters is Joe’s young and willing body, his tender moans, and John wants to make him feel good, make him feel lust and tension and tightness of pleasure and white-hot sparks of release, he wants to hear him,  _ make  _ him cry out under his body-

Joe turns around then, grabbing the earphone, his pupils dilated and his face flushed, eyes dark as if trying to send John away, as if trying to tell him to fuck off and meanwhile to never let him go, as if asking him not to torture him anymore, as if asking him to stay with him or leave forever-

“Open up,” Joe says after searching his face, and when John obeys, he puts a spoonful of sauce in his mouth.

A savoury, rich taste is spreading on his tongue, spices and sweetness and sourness.

Tastes like Joe.

“Mmm,” John hums, eyes wide, because it has to be one of the most amazing tomato sauces he’s ever tasted. “What are you making?”

“Lasagne,” Joe says, grinning a half-grin, the dark begging gone from his eyes. "Also lemon cheesecake, panzanella salad and minestrone."

“It’s really tasty.” John looks into Joe’s eyes, searching, searching for…

“I know. I perfected the family recipe by mixing it with one I found online.”

“It is perfect.”

_ Like you. _

John silently takes Joe’s wrist and guides it to the counter, and Joe lets the spoon fall from his hand. John touches his pulse on his wrist with his fingertips, rapid, rapid like his, the skin is smooth, and he’s going mad by the slightest contact between them.

_ Careful.  _

"John-” Joe whispers, begging for… 

For what?

“I miss you,” John whispers, looking into those eyes, the wrist thin and vulnerable and pulsating in his hand as he presses closer, into Joe’s body heat. “I need you, give me something, give me just a taste of you-”

_ Tone it down. _

He can't tone it down. Maybe he doesn't want to. Maybe somewhere, deep inside he wants to get busted.

“John,” Joe says, trembling lips so close, so maddeningly close, “I— I don't think it’s a good idea...”

“Don't you want me anymore?” John whispers, and Joe’s lips are parting and his eyelids are fluttering and his hands are on John’s shoulder, and John leans ahead, waiting for the answer.

"You know I do, always... but I don’t want you to get into trouble," Joe says, looking away but John lifts his chin, giving the boy a chance to back off-

Joe kisses him, and it’s like tasting water after dying of thirst, Joe’s tongue is the fountain of youth and life-

“Can't take it anymore, I'm going crazy,” John breathes on Joe’s lips, and the kid groans, he’s already hard like John, his body always ready for John’s, and John’s body always ready for his.

“You think you're the only one?” Joe moans between kisses, his hands under John's shirt grabbing handfuls of his flesh. “Seeing you with her... I want to rip you out of her arms because her every touch makes you forget about mine-” 

Ronnie's touch? It can't erase Joe’s. No, it can't.

“Never,” John whispers, his whole body wrapping around Joe’s short, thin, sweet one, not even the brief thought of his wife holding him back anymore. “I'll never forget it, impossible-”

He’s pressing Joe backwards and grabs him by the thighs and lifts him on the counter, and Joe spreads his legs for him and John’s hips fit between them so perfectly as Joe runs his fingers through his hair and pulls-

“Please, more-” 

“Goodness, your smell,” John moans as he thrusts, mouthing Joe's neck, “your voice, your energy, your everything-”

Joe’s fingernails dig into his back then, it's not even been two minutes and he’s already trembling, “John, I'm-”

“Yes, come," John whispers and he captures Joe’s moan with his lips and swallows as the water is boiling and sizzling and running out of the pot and-

There's a sudden knock on the door, and Ginnie is shouting inside, and John twitches, almost fainting; and Joe’s pushing him away before jumping down and putting his hand on the handle of the white-hot pot, and John watches him with confusion as he intentionally burns his hand and yells-

Joe painfully cradling his hand makes John snap out of his numbness and grab Joe's hand to put it under cold water-

Ginnie opens the door with a spare key and yells something at Joe, something about not occupying the kitchen anymore, and she stops as she sees John holding Joe's hand under the water, and-

"What happened?"

Ginnie runs to them, taking a quick look at the blister on Joe's hand and hurrying to the cupboard for the first aid kit, and John's hands are freezing as he holds Joe's-

"How did you-?" Ginnie asks, taking Joe's hand from John's and applying cream on it.

"I- it was running out and I wanted to save the pasta-"

"Why can't you be more careful? You’re so clumsy," Ginnie is chiding him, and Joe moans painfully as she twists gauze around his hand.

Joe's hand will be fine. Thank god. John quickly turns off the stove, luckily the pasta is not burnt too badly, and the sauce is safe.

He's amazed by Joe's twisted presence of mind. Even though covering their arousal with a burn might be a little over the top.

"Why the hell were you locked in anyway?"

"Mooom-" Joe grimaces, and John wants to kiss his boo boo to make the pain go away. "I told you, I wanted a surprise and it turned out I needed John's help-"

"What help?" Ginnie asks, pressing a kiss on Joe's head. "Not to doubt John’s gastronomic abilities, but I can help you with cooking, too, you know. He’s our guest."

"I…"

"Oh, the recipe uses European units," John's lips speak on their own. "It measures in grams and not cups, and I helped with the conversion and the pre-tasting."

His own abilities of  _ lying. _ Joe looks at him, a nanosecond of surprise on his face before he puts on his acting mask.

"You Europeans measure everything in funny units," Ginnie chuckles, looking over the ingredients of the dinner, just waiting to be put together. “I have lactose free cheese somewhere in the fridge.”

"I could say the same, you Americans’ conversion rates are crazy. How many feet are in one ounce anyway?" John can joke a bit already.

In the end, the three of them put together the ingredients to help Joe.

The dinner is a huge success. Ginnie tells everyone why Joe's hand is bandaged, and John watches Joe being gloomy as his siblings mock him, and Josh looking like he feels sorry for him and Ronnie eyeing Joe with something dark in her eyes, even as she's complimenting his lasagne.

He can't forget that look. He's grateful she's not looking at  _ him  _ like that, but at the same time he wants to stand in front of Joe to shield him from that gaze. 

He's getting desperate. He's getting reckless. He's getting obvious. And Joe can't always be smart enough for both of them.

 

One of the next days is just another beautiful day, and John’s sitting on the patio, having his coffee and enjoying the sight of the lake. He never gets tired of the landscape.

Ronnie and Joseph are building sand castles with Luke and Cam, and John stares lovingly at them.

He wishes this summer would never end, and he wishes it never happened. His thoughts keep wandering to Joe who’s napping in his room, his red hair probably glistening in the rays of sunlight through the shutter, his eyelashes casting shadows on his freckled cheeks. John hopes his hand doesn’t hurt anymore.

His cell phone buzzes in his pocket.

A text from Joe.

_ "Where are you, wolf?"  _

John smiles as he writes back.  _ “Sunbathing and enjoying my coffee. How’s your hand?” _

His phone buzzes again between his fingers, and he puts it on mute.

_ “Better. Are you alone?"  _

Oh. His blood pressure is rising as if anticipating something.

_ "No. Why...?" _

He doesn’t have to wait long to his suspicions to be proven right.

_ "Cause im alone and i've been thinking about my big bad wolf ;-)" _

John’s breathing is becoming heavier. He texts back with trembling fingers, trying to keep a neutral expression.

_ "Are you planning what I'm thinking?" _

_ “;-)) ive been thinking about your furry chest and your big, thick cock. i miss them” _

John reads the text flustered, embarrassed and turned on. He has never received texts like this before, Ronnie’s not into it. He seems to recall that they are called sexts nowadays? He and Freddie got naughty once or twice through the phone, and dirty talking is certainly not unknown to him, but...

His face is flushed when he gets up. “Bathroom, be right back,” he mouths towards Ronnie and the kids, and she smiles as she waves.

He feels like a fucking teenager as he locks himself in the bathroom.

The more dangerous this gets, the less he seems to be able to resist.

But they are both frustrated after last time when they couldn't finish-

_ “I’m alone now.” _

He’s already had trouble adjusting his hard-on in his shorts, and reading Joe’s next text doesn’t help. 

_ ”Im lying in my bed, naked and hard for you” _

Oh, that image of that naughty boy, horny on summer and hormones and John’s arousal.

_ "You must be a beautiful sight,” _ he types as he takes out his cock, feeling it pulsing in his hand.  _ “I want to kiss you all over. What would you do if i were there?" _

_ ”Id be on my knees worshipping that dick with my mouth and tongue, youd love it” _

John stifles a groan as he gently, teasingly starts playing with his cock.

_ "I bet you'd make me come in ten seconds with your wonderful red lips." _

_ ”Wanna taste you already. Wanna lick your cock and your huge balls before swallowing you as deep as i can” _

Holy shit… The boy is explicit. He must be really turned on. John groans and smiles, shaking his head as his breathing speeds up.

_ ”I’m thinking about your body too, sweetheart... that gorgeous, young body. Your perfect, soft lips. Are you stroking yourself for me?” _

_ ”I am. im wanking while thinking about you using my mouth. how bout you?” _

John grins through a moan of pleasure as he’s rubbing the head of his cock with a fingertip, teasing himself a bit more for now. 

_ “Yes, I’m aching for you. You always manage to get me so hard. I wish this was your mouth instead of my hand” _

It takes a while for Joe to reply, but John receives a longer text in two parts.

_ “If i ever get to sleep with you again, you can have all of my body, any way you want it, im gonna suck you and ride you all night if you want me to" _

Goddamn. John’s cock twitches at the thought of Joe writhing in his lap, holding onto his shoulders...

_ ”Joe, you make me lose my mind” _

_ "I know, the feeling's mutual. would you like to fuck me?" _

Fuck. John lets his cock slap against his stomach before he squeezes it and rolls down his foreskin, he’s so hard and so wet, he doesn't know how he manages to type at this point, but he bets Joe will lose the last of his composure at his next text.

_ "Hell yes. Want me to fuck you? Want to feel my cock slowly sliding into you so you can enjoy every inch? Or want me to pump hard and fast into that soft little hole of yours?" _

John cups his balls, enjoying the feel of them tightening, imagining Joe's face as he reads his text. The answer comes soon without any punctuation.

_ ”Yes John pls fuck me with that huge dick fuck me deep and rough” _

John is panting, seeing Joe spread out on the bed on his hands and knees, his round little arse getting filled out with John's cock, John’s hands sliding over that narrow waist and wide back, his lips kissing along the spine, their bodies becoming one…

_ "Yeah, i'm gonna give it to you real good baby, gonna finger you first and when you beg me to fuck you i'm gonna pull you to my hips and push into your heat" _

Drops of precum are dribbling down his shaft onto his hand, making the movements gliding smoother on his flushed cock. 

_ "Tell me how it feels, i want to know already, im ready for it" _

Joe’s body, so grown-up, and yet not. 

Joe’s small, soft, virgin arse…

_ “God it feels so amazing, you’re so hot and tight and silky and i bet you love how i’m stretching you out, filling you up as my hips are slapping against yours" _

Joe’s pleasure. Joe’s ecstasy...

He receives the next text with some delay but he doesn't care, his mind is already darkening as he’s jerking himself hard now, his thighs tensing, warmth pooling in his groin. He lifts his phone with a sweating hand.

_ "Gonna cum" _ is all that Joe’s written.

With his last bit of concentration, John manages to type out an encouragement.

_ "Squeeze that cock for me baby squeeze out every drop" _

John closes his eyes, tucking his shirt up on his stomach, remembering how expressive Joe’s face was as he climaxed, how he moaned and trembled; and he imagines his sweet Joe panting and coming again in his arms, their lips meeting, limbs twining around each other. He gasps, spurting over himself, and he gently rubs his cum all over his belly before lifting some of it to his mouth and tasting it, imagining it to be Joe’s.

He chuckles as he shakes his head, panting.

This naughty brat.

A text.

_ “Fuck, it was hot. did you cum too?" _

John grins as he wipes himself, sending back a smiley.

_ ";-)" _

He reads the texts again before deleting them, just in case.

It was fun. 

His breathing is slowing down.

It was… shameless.

His smile is fading, and his heart aches.

It was… 

Way not enough.

 

He should be feeling guilty.

He cheated. He keeps cheating, not physically, yet still.

He tries to feel guilty, but it’s no use. 

Being with Joe comes so naturally. They are having fun together, and it’s good, too good. He’s well aware that it’s only borrowed time, but it’s a special time, a fling he wants to enjoy as long as it lasts, not thinking much of the consequences. 

He trusts Joe. He won’t bust them. He won’t tell. He’s careful.

The guilt has slowly disappeared at one point along the way, and now he’s rocking himself in a false sense of security.

The sexting has calmed both of them down a bit. Well, as much as they are capable of calming down, anyway.

He's lying on Joe's bed one night at a half-closed door, an arm under his head, his free hand absentmindedly picking at the fluorescent constellation stickers on the wall.

It's late, around ten, the summer breeze coming through the window to flutter the curtains, the quiet beats of Deep Purple are floating in the air around them, and John listens to Joe's guitar strings vibrating softly, thinking.

Joe’s turned out to be a fast learner once he decided he wanted to take practicing a little more seriously. They even started to put together a song, Joe on guitar and John on bass. It's been quite a while since John’s done this, and it's Joe's first time, so it's not the biggest hit John's ever come up with, but it's fun. He almost forgot how fun it is.

He chuckles as he remembers pranking Joe earlier by tuning a string to the wrong key to see whether Joe notices it. It took the boy some time, but he figured it out eventually, sticking his tongue out at John. 

Joe now plays along to Perfect Strangers, and John listens, his eyes closing.

“That's a G there, not a D, at the ‘strand of silver’ part,” John says without opening his eyes, and Joe curses.

“Thanks, Mr. Absolute Pitch. This one's hard. I should be playing Bob Dylan or something.”

“Nah, you're doing amazing, and this is a really difficult song indeed.” 

“I’m quite good, despite that you were teaching me wrong,” Joe teases, and John opens one eye.

“Are you seriously telling one of the most admired bass players in the world that he can't teach?" he chuckles. 

“Maybe you need to refresh my memory,” Joe winks at him invitingly, gesturing him closer with his head, and John sighs. He’s not going to put his arms around the kid to show him how to properly hold down a D sharp again. He’s not falling for that trick again.

“It's only been a few weeks since you picked it up again, right? And it's not like we practice every day.”

“We were busy practicing something  _ else, _ ” Joe whispers suddenly, putting down the guitar, and John chuckles, even though he rolls his eyes. 

“What are you talking about?” John asks, feigning innocence, looking up to see Joe crawling over to him on his hands and knees, glaring up at him with his head turned down a bit.

“Practicing more important things: lessons in life and lessons in looove,” Joe chants in a low voice, barely audible through Ian Gillan’s singing, biting his lower lip sensually. Oh, that full, red lip.

“Are you  _ always  _ horny?” John’s certainly not immune to the sight, but this is a very inappropriate time for the things Joe’s suggesting. 

He snickers. ‘Inappropriate’, eh? Like there is a right time to sleep with his teenage godson.

Joe pouts. Again. He knows well that it works on John. “I didn’t mean it like  _ that, _ geez.”

“Yes, you did.”

Now it’s Joe’s turn to roll his eyes. “Yes, I did. But I was also talking about our emotional and familial  _ bonding. _ ”

“Well, that's a way to say it.”

John’s way past the disgust or the struggle or the denial already, and Joe seems to be downright basking in the wrongness of it all, talking about  _ them _ without any shame. Joe is all over him, like always, and it’s getting dangerous. Joe’s hand is slipping under John’s shirt, clawing lightly at his stomach.

“I love how soft and hairy you are,” Joe whispers, and John grabs his wrist.

“Joe. Behave.” 

The boy just hums as he kneels up to nip John’s ear. 

“Joe. I know you like to play with fire but we're going to get burnt.” John grabs his shoulders, but he can’t stifle a sigh.

He hugs his godson close and Joe lays his head on his chest, listening to his heartbeat. He’s playing with John’s chest hair again, the part that peeks out of his shirt at the neck.

”My furry man,” Joe whispers, and John chuckles.

”Why do you like my hair so much? Or me, for that matter.”

“I don't know. I guess I love men, not boys,” Joe hums, genuinely considering the answer as he’s tapping his fingers on John’s chest. “These wide shoulders, these pecs, the grey hair… your grown-up smell and intelligence… That you’re still strong, picking up your kids all the time… These strong, thick thighs...”

“Now you’re making me feel embarrassed.”

“Yeah, it’s getting embarrassing. Tell me a bedtime story instead.”

John makes a face. “You're getting a bit old for Little Red Riding Hood, don't you think?”

“Fine. Come up with a grown-up story then,” Joe giggles, draping an arm over John’s stomach.

John closes his eyes, feeling Joe's shoulders and arms and side under his fingertips, the sinews of his body, the ridges of ribcage under the t-shirt. The weight of his head on his chest. The sound of his purring, the smell of testosterone and shampoo.

If someone were looking at them right now, they might even think what they have is completely innocent.

Except that it's not.

But now, it is, and John is savouring every second, as much as he savours every secret kiss, every desperate touch, every moan and cry and scratch on his skin.

Joe breathes slowly as an instrumental song is playing, and John starts murmuring to him, like when Joe was small, really small, and he read to him until he fell asleep in his arms.

“Once upon a time there was a little boy from a small town. He never even dared to dream about the dragons he got to slay during his life.

One day he met three other boys, older and stronger than him, and they asked him to prove that he’s worthy of going on unknown adventures with them, to worlds yet to be discovered. So he took his magic mandoline and did what he could do best: played them a song, alone at first, but then the others all picked up their instruments and joined him.

The first of them was a boy with long, dark, curly mane full of stardust and dark matter, planets floating around his head, and he had a dainty harp with a badger carved on it, its strings weaved of his own hair; and when he played, galaxies whirled around and stars began to form in the sky;

The second boy, with shiny hair in the color of summer sand, fish scales on his clothes, played a pearly tambourine made of seashells, and when he began to play, waves rose and rivers sprang up from the ground and waterfalls gurgled from the mountains;

And there was the third boy, flames in his veins and embers in his black irises; he was standing there, reaching out for the boy with empty hands, and when the boy asked him what his instrument was, he just smiled; and then he opened his mouth and fire burst behind him like wings, his limbs radiated heat and his voice enchanted and mesmerized everyone who heard him; and he held the boy’s heart in a fiery grip.

They all played and sang together for hours, and a bond formed between the four of them, and they accepted him as one of them; they kept singing and creating and spreading music all over the world for many, many years; they met others and had families and brought melodies and poems to those who were open to it.”

He stops to look at Joe, who's been listening to him with closed eyes, and now he lifts his head and tightens his embrace around John's body.

Joe's gaze is warm and knowing in his slightly puffy eyes.

“You were in love with him, weren't you?” He asks softly. He doesn't have to specify who.

“Yes.” John doesn't have to say it either.

“Did he love you back?”

A pause, a nanosecond of a swirl of memories and emotions he’s buried deep long ago, but Joe's eyes are crystal clear, green and calming, accepting and honest, and in his arms everything’s easy to remember. To confess.

“I think so.”

“You don't know?”

"We didn't really talk about these things back then."

"You don't need to say it. You can just feel it."

John thinks about it. About how protected he felt all those years. About how he was guided through the storms of life. About how much honesty and trust he received.

He’s never talked about this before. Of course, Brian and Roger knew it, and he’s pretty sure half of the world suspected it as well. 

Also Joseph. He never told him explicitly, but Joseph just knew. John invited him to one of their early gigs in London, and Joseph went, and John introduced him to Freddie, and Joseph looked down at their shyly, secretly touching hands for a second, and he smiled.

They were two different worlds meeting up, attracting, exploring, twisting and loving and almost destroying each other, but it was honest, oh, so honest, because they had things in common. Freddie took him under his wings, he became his voice, and he became his support and his gentle nudge, and they were each other’s muses, he was his mentor and his awakening, the first and only man who kissed John until...

What they had was true and compassionate, and he listened to Freddie cry about men, and Freddie listened to John talk about women. They were open about everything, about dreams and plans, about clubbing and children and life.

But John was young. He was closeted. He was standing there, exposed for the whole world to see, and boy, the world really was curious about him. But John was not like Freddie, he cared too much about what they would say, about what his family would say. It was a different time back then. 

And John wanted to have children so much. He wanted them so much. A calm family life, away from the media's madness.

So they let each other go without any anger, with only the utmost respect; and when he met Veronica he fell in love with her, he honestly did, and he’d found another best friend in her, and he was genuinely happy, and he had everything he’s ever wanted. 

Out of two worlds, he managed to keep both, in one way or another.

But there were some things he couldn't speak about.

When the storm was gathering and he could see the darkness creeping on him, he tried to talk to her about his worries and pain, and later, about the nature of his grief and loss, and tell her everything, once more, like he tried to tell it to her in the beginning.

_ “What are you saying? I don’t believe it’s possible. You… bisexual? Just... you just can’t have both. You’ll have to make a decision eventually. I don't want to talk about it, I’m sorry, I can't. You should ask for guidance if you're confused. I’ll pray for you, I always do." _

He could never talk to her about this because it goes against her beliefs. The thought that sometimes one can love two people at the same time. Two souls. Or two genders.

Freddie always stuck with him later in life, even when they fought, even when he found Jim, and a part of John has always belonged to him, and when he was gone, he took it with himself to god knows where, and John’s been living with the tiniest black hole inside of his heart.

“Yes. He loved me back.”

It feels good to say it out loud, like a part of him that's been caged down got set free again, spreading its wings, flying away.

“I'm glad,” Joe smiles after a pause, listening outside for a second before pressing a quick kiss on John's lips.

This summer is different, it feels like a dream, a frightening, terrible, wonderful dream that will eventually go away like it never happened.

Except it won't.

John swallows.

“Want to hear the rest of the story?”

Joe looks at him seriously. “Everything you want to say, I want to know.”

“It's… not happy.”

“I don’t mind.”

So John inhales, and tells him all.

The good parts, and the bad ones.

How he watched Freddie's health declining, his energy and vivaciousness and will to live leaving his body. How John felt his sickness like it was his own, how weak and fragile he was, how much he hated himself for not being as strong as Brian or Roger, but he simply couldn't watch it anymore and he refused to visit him until Jim called him and begged him to. 

How he almost couldn't say his goodbyes. 

Their last talk, Freddie's eyes as he held John's face with his thin, pale hands, his weak but encouraging smile, when John should have been the one to be strong. Their last exchanged kisses, Freddie’s lips on his forehead, John’s on Freddie’s bony cheek.

He tells him about the funeral, that all he remembers is Jim hugging him and Brian looking half-dead and Roger grabbing his shoulders and Ronnie holding his hand like she wanted to pull him away, like she didn't want to be there and didn’t want him to be there; and how he watched as the boy who had flames in his heart was given back to the fire he was born in, and a part of him was burned together with him that day.

He tells Joe everything, not as a fairy tale but as it comes out, dark and raw like the pus of an unhealed wound finally cut up; and Joe, sweet little Joe weeps for him, and cries together with him, and wipes down and kisses away John’s tears running down his temple.

 

It was cathartic to tell someone the unadulterated truth, without judgment, and without the fear of being judged.

They stay inside their own little bubble for some time, just the two of them, not talking, just holding each other, enjoying the silence that’s filled with understanding. 


	8. Eastern Wind Rising To Take Me Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Black clouds are gathering above Joe and John as Ronnie fights for what's hers — but inside the eye of the hurricane it can be calm for a while.

Something has shifted again.

John poured out his soul, and Joe has accepted it without question.

There's a strange calmness in John now, a serenity he's forgotten about or maybe he’s never known, getting stronger whenever he looks at Joe.

He's watching Joe change slightly like the seasons, changing like how children grow up, watching him having calmer moments as their souls are getting more and more attuned to each other.

John’s watching Joe sitting in the sunset at the water, his back gently rising and falling with every breath; he's watching the shape of his waist and shoulders, his hair that has grown a bit since the beginning of summer, the little ridges of his spine as his arms are wrapping around his pulled-up knees.

The summer is slowly ending, autumn is approaching, and he's watching Ginnie bring Joe a jumper after sunset, and Joe smiles up at his mom as she covers his back with it, grabbing her hand and playfully kissing it.

Joe, little Joe.

John is watching him, his childish profile that's so different from his adult smile, admiring him, feeling Joe’s melancholic sadness as the fall is coming.

He’s watching him and daydreaming while strumming on his guitar, a little song floating from his instrument, formed inside his brain, refined and purified under his fingers, enriched by the low, humming purring of his throat before it burrows itself back into his memory. A song about summer and freckles and laughter.

Joe, not so little anymore, and John's watching him grow and change right in front of his eyes, and they share the melancholy and the joy of life even when they’re not speaking.

They spend a lot of time together, not even talking, just sitting, reading or simply listening to the sound of the wind, Joe cursing as a mosquito bites him, John's glasses slipping off his nose with sweat.

Joe, growing Joe, so honest in his imperfection, irresponsible and sometimes selfish, but true to himself.

He ignited, or reignited, something in John, something that’s been dormant.

With Joe, he could be his authentic self for the length of a fairy tale. Joe accepted him without any conditions, without depending on him, without any obligations.

John's happy. He loves to be a father, he likes to be a husband, as good as he can, he's proud of his family and what he's achieved in life.

He is happy and content.

And he loves the way Joe wants him.

Joe, almost grown-up Joe with no condescendence or judgment within him, wise in the heart in a way many adults aren't.

John stares tenderly at him as they're reading, that red hair framed by the yellow shade of evenings that are slowly turning orange.

John might be happy, but with Joe… he’s joyful.

That evening with Joe, he felt…

He smiles when the boy looks up and grins at him, his green eyes peacefully observing John before he digs his fox-nose back into his magazine.

…free.

They’ve loved each other from day one, from the first gaze, and that will never change.

They’re bonded.

His eyes are wandering from Joe's hair to the rusty brown spots on the trees here and there.

The days are hot, but the nights are getting chilly.

 

He’s lying in bed one night sleepless, listening to Ronnie’s soft snoring, mingling with Joe’s puttering sounds coming from the next room.

The boy's still up, probably listening to music with his headphones on while doing a school project or stretching.

John’s every single nerve is attuned to him. He can even see Joe’s hair glistening in the light of the night lamp if he concentrates hard enough, that thick, red hair he’s so fascinated with.

Ronnie's breathing is even and quiet in the dark, in contrast to how restless John’s is.

Unthinking, he grabs his phone from the nightstand in a flash, holding it, caressing it as if it was a hand.

He covers himself with the blanket and starts typing as quietly as he can so the buttons don’t click.

_"I miss you, baby boy…"_

The blunt sounds of Joe fidgeting around stop, and there’s silence.

_What are you doing?_

John closes his eyes, pressing his phone to his chest so the light wouldn’t shine through the blanket.

_"Oh my god, John"_

John carefully reads the text, and there's another one coming right after.

_"How am I supposed to go to sleep with his raging boner now"_

John smiles. Joe is horny and ready all the time, but John doesn't feel like that right now. He feels strange. He’s in a romantic and emotional mood.

_"I need to wrap my arms around you, sweetheart. I want to smell your hair and feel you close to me."_

He rubs his face under the blanket, holding his phone against his chest once again. Next to him, Ronnie murmurs in her sleep and turns towards him. John tenses and peeks out and waits, watching her hair glistening silver in the moonlight.

Like the color of the stars.

His wife…

_You’re pathetic. You're evil._

_"I wish there wasn't this wall between us, wolf"_

John sets the brightness of the screen to the lowest, smiling at the pet name.

_"I want to hold you so badly, Joe. My own little fox :-)"_

_You’re screwed, so, so screwed._

_"John I’m so fucking alone without you :-( Cuddle me and tell me it will be fine"_

His heart aches.

_What even are you thinking, you idiot._

_"I know… I miss you too. I want to cuddle you."_

_"What should I do? What can I do?"_

Ronnie stirs, and John turns away from her, waiting for a few seconds before typing out one last text.

_"We'll figure something out, I promise."_

Joe doesn’t answer, and John waits for a while, staring at the ceiling with the phone in his hand, listening to Ronnie’s breathing.

_Don't you care about either of them?_

He puts down his phone before he turns and hugs his wife’s sleeping body, inhaling her scent and breathing a kiss on her neck, remembering her smile on their wedding day, and he thinks about how Joe doesn't have anyone to embrace.

As he falls asleep, he can almost see Joe lying in bed, maybe sniffing quietly, cuddling his pillow.

 

"I can’t believe you just jumped out and yelled at it! How did you have the presence of mind? Bears are bloody dangerous."

"They are, but sometimes you just act instinctively when you’re in danger. Maybe it's the same thing that happens when people who get into a car accident can lift up the car to pull someone out."

The grass is steep and wet under their feet as they're walking around the lake in the chilly early morning, two silhouettes in the misty forest, two friends of almost four decades with a huge amount of stories to reminiscence about.

"I’ve heard about that! It’s about not feeling the pain because of the adrenaline rush, and using up all your spare energy."

"Yeah, that too, but it was more like, I don't know, seeing myself from the outside, like pushing the fear back into a distant part of my brain and just letting the rational part do its job."

"The rational part of your brain made you open your coat and yell at a bear that got so surprised and frightened it ran away."

"Man, you were there!"

"I’m still not over it. Are you sure you're part Italian and not Russian or something?"

"Who knows one's way about the mysteries of genes."

John laughs with his friend as they walk around the lake, talking about old times under the trees, a few brown and yellow leaves here and there, and Joseph zips up his jumper.

The morning is cool and cloudy, and autumn is slowly approaching.

"I love being in nature. Just feeling this smell, it really clears up my head."

"That's why we're vacationing here, pal," Joseph winks.

John's missed this.

He was preoccupied with being torn between Joe and Ronnie and guilt and lust, and he's missed talking to his friend. They really should be talking more…

But he can't tell him everything.

He and Joe haven't touched each other since they almost got busted in the kitchen. John misses it, and he’s pretty sure Joe misses it too, judging by how he occasionally sends him texts when he knows John is alone. However, taking a tiny break from Joe's overwhelming presence and tempting radiation makes him feel less guilty. He needs these little breaks for the sake of his sanity.

Even though what he and Joe have is a part of his identity now. A part of his personality, a part of his past, and he doesn't regret it, not for a single second.

It's like everything is in place now.

It was meant to happen.

It doesn’t mean anyone should know.

The wind is ruffling Joseph’s greying hair as they’re walking in silence for a few minutes, and John is thinking about the hikes they used to take together—

"Hey John, I was thinking… what if you took Joe away for a hike?"

Joe.

He picks up the name from the sentence, and his heart starts to beat faster.

Joe. Little Joe.

"What? Sorry, I was lost in thought."

Joseph grins at him. "Still thinking about that bear? You have to admit it was really amazing from me, wasn't it."

John laughs.

"Yes, I have to admit you've got the balls. So what were you saying?"

Joseph comes to a halt, staring into the distance with a hand reached out towards John for his camera.

"There’s a golden eagle there," he whispers tensely, and John puts the camera in his hand.

Indeed. If John concentrates hard enough he can see the enormous brown bird with a light head on one of the distant trees, looking for prey.

After about a minute, while only the clicking of the camera can be heard, the eagle spreads its huge wings and dives down for a rabbit, and Joseph lets out an amazed _wow._

The bird flies away with its breakfast, and John smiles as Joseph enthusiastically shows him the series of photos he's just taken.

"Amazing," John says, zooming on the feathers. Not bad for three megapixels. He briefly wonders what’s the maximum resolution technology will reach in his lifetime. "Next time set the shutter speed lower."

"Okay, Mr. Know-It-All, next time I'll ask the bird to wait a bit, okay?"

John laughs, and they turn back as the sun comes out between the clouds and the sky is lighting up.

Their steps are picking up each other's rhythm.

"So, I had this idea…" Joseph says, and John's stomach twists into excited anticipation. "Summer's almost over, and Joe's going to be busy with school and filming for a while again. I can see that he's quite sad about it. He likes you, so I thought maybe you should do something with him, just the two of you before we leave. How about a hike? You both like hiking, and there's a little cottage a few miles away you could stay for a night…"

He almost stops.

An overnight hike with Joe. A whole night for themselves, with the approval, moreover, the suggestion of Joseph himself.

This is too good to be true.

John's mind is already imagining up things. Being with Joe. Talking with him. Doing things with him…

"Ah, don't remind me of the end of summer. But it's a good idea," he rasps out, trying to act casual, even as his guts are on fire and his palms are sweaty and shame is squeezing his throat, but the excitement is strong. "I'll ask Joe if he feels like it."

"Already asked," Joseph says, grinning at him, looking very proud of himself. "I would be surprised if he wasn't already packed."

John smiles.

"Have you been to that cottage?"

"Yeah, we found it once accidentally when we were hiking there. It's about twelve miles from here. You can ask for the key in the village at the inn…"

John hums, asking questions, but deep inside he's already imagining themselves on the hill. There's a lake there too, and according to Joseph, it's possible to make a campfire and swim…

A whole night when they can be themselves around each other. Free. Unrestricted. Honest…

Joseph talks about the details, looking very satisfied by John's enthusiasm, and pokes his shoulder.

"He likes you a lot and I'm sure you're going to have fun. I'm trusting your good effect on him. And… I know it's a difficult thing because of the kids, so I already asked Ronnie, too. Ginnie and I can help her with them until you come back."

John suddenly sees black, wanting to sink six feet under.

"Really? She hasn't mentioned it. What did she say?"

"She was mostly okay with it," Joseph says reassuringly, apparently proud of his logistics abilities, and John feels like crap again.

_'I trust you with my son.'_

If the thing he and Joe have is so honest and pure, why do they have to keep it a secret?

 

Veronica can be a very good actress if she wants. She’s sly and tricky.

But John knows her as much as she knows him.

John would rather gnaw his finger off than talk about the hike with her, but he has to, it’s not a thing that can be swept under the rug.

Ronnie is in their room, getting ready for breakfast by the time Joseph and John get back, brushing her hair on their mini balcony when John enters, her face lighting up, and John smiles, kissing her on the lips, observing the familiarity of the shape of her mouth, the scent of her hair.

Memorizing…

_No._

He shakes his head briefly.

Ronnie leans her head on his shoulder, her waist still slender under his hand, and they stare at the landscape.

Joe arguing with his dad can be heard downstairs.

"Daaad! I don't want to take my phone! The point is getting rid of technology for one night—"

"Joe, if you're in trouble, how do I know where I should look for you, or whether you need help at all?"

"Dad, I'll be with John, he’s an adult—"

"Son, stop arguing with me!"

"Ah, fine! But I don't wanna call you every hour—"

"You don’t need to call every hour, I don't want to babysit you! But I need to know if you’re in trouble, if you, I don't know, break a leg or something—"

John smiles, and Ronnie must sense it because she looks up at him, in her eyes… suspicion? Sadness? Jealousy?

Probably all of them.

"Hey," he says, gently stroking her cheek, but his mouth is dry. "Do you mind if I go with Joe?"

It's nothing special. It's just a hike with his godson.

There’s a flash of a smile on Ronnie’s lips.

"What if I said I do mind?"

She observes him, and John doesn’t look away, he tries not to think of anything, he has to concentrate and not to show anything in his eyes that could give him away.

Not to show that he'd rather give a decade away from his life than to miss this opportunity.

"Then I wouldn't go."

After a tense moment, Ronnie sighs.

"You know, I preferred if you didn't. It’s one of our last nights here, and Cam has been acting like crazy recently. But…"

John waits, wondering whether he should call it off, vaguely feeling the weight of this everyday conversation that so much depends on… But Ronnie continues as if persuading herself.

"But I know you want to go and… maybe it will be good for you two."

John wants to thank her, as if he’s been waiting for her permission, but he doesn’t.

"I'll be back soon," he says instead, and Ronnie chuckles, but it doesn't sound cheerful, not at all.

"Yes, I know. You're always back."

The smile freezes on his face.

"What do you mean?"

He knows very well what she means.

Ronnie smiles, her perfect teeth glistening like icicles as she strokes his hair.

"Oh, I just remembered the song you wrote for me. You know which one? _'I've been wandering around, but I still come back to you'…"_

Oh yes. That song.

John knows perfectly well why Ronnie has mentioned it, and this time he doesn't get thrown back by the bitter, sharp edges of her words. He pulls himself together and gets ready like a good actor before the big premiere.

He smiles back, wondering for a second, not for the first time whether he's going mad.

It's time to walk through the hailstorm with only torches in his hand, using his love as a weapon in this…

In this what?

'All is fair in love and war.'

His love.

A weapon, and an enemy.

He smiles back, because suddenly it's the seventies again and they are both so young and idealistic and excited—

"Yes," he says, pressing a kiss on her forehead. "I remember how happy we were when we were expecting Robert. We had almost nothing, but we were becoming a family."

Ronnie softens like every time they talk about their family, her waist loosening under John's arms who just feels now how tense they've both been. She lets out a sigh, and there's a tender smile shining up at him.

"Then we finally could move into our house. We were so happy because we knew we’d be together forever."

He caresses the small of her back.

The mother of his children.

"It was so scary, wasn't it? Yet exciting at the same time. You and Robert liked to listen to me playing the piano for hours…"

"I’m happy we had kids early in life. And of course, I’m happy about our late babies, too. It's good we had them while we still could." Ronnie hugs him, playing with the back of his shirt. "And isn’t it nice that Joe and Josh are the same age, and were able to grow together…?"

John ignores the unpleasant thud in his heart. He just hums and pulls her close so he doesn't have to look in her eyes, his stomach twisting.

Joe’s yelling laughter can be heard from outside. The sound’s like it’s coming from the shore while he's trapped underwater, like a voice from a lifeboat.

"Are you still happy?"

Ronnie really is playing on his nerves right now.

"Of course I am," he says, because it’s true, stroking her hair. Of course. "You're here, some of our kids are here, our friends are here… of course I'm happy. Why are you asking?"

It’s true.

He's happy. He's at home.

There's a name floating between them, unsaid, like the ghost of Christmas Future.

"John?"

Ronnie steps back, looking at him with lips tight, observant like an interrogation officer of the Thought Police.

This is it. This is the end.

This is how he'll get kicked out.

He prepares himself, but strangely enough, he realizes he's calm. Melancholic. Sad. As if saying goodbye, not to a person, but to a phase, to a place, to things that were.

He waits for what's to come.

"Come back soon."

He kisses her then, a peck at first, but the kiss deepens as Ronnie opens up for him, her touch becoming more suggestive, her hands slowly slipping under his shirt before John breaks it with a smaller kiss, smiling at her, not wanting to touch her now when Joe's laughter can be heard from the outside.

He opens his mouth to lie something, but he doesn't even know what is the lie anymore.

"It's only for a night, honey. We're not going to the North Pole."

Only for a night.

How many times has he lied this to himself?

Ronnie knows him as much as he knows her.

She nods, her hand slipping from under his shirt to his hips, and they stay there, staring outside at the trees and mountains again for a while.

 

They have dinner that night.

Apparently, only John and Joe share that summertime sadness.

Everyone else is chatting and screaming. Luke and Cam are playing at the table with their toy cars, Mary is tittering to Ronnie about the judicial process of a mob boss, Ginnie and Joseph are kissing again while John Jr and Josh are rolling their eyes at them in sync.

The dinner tastes really good as always, but John just picks at it.

This night is crucial in many ways, and there's so much depending on how he’s acting.

He's getting insecure, the exhaustion making him confused.

Does he even want to act? What does he want?

Is Joe worth it?

He glances at Joe who’s eating like there’s no tomorrow, but there's a vertical line between his brows and he’s quieter than usual, tapping his fingers absentmindedly on the table between two dishes, puttering with the cutlery.

Joe’s nervous.

Can he sense what John feels, or is he just nervous about tomorrow? Nervous what might be coming?

They finish the main course — ratatouille with eggplants and sausages — and Ronnie suddenly lifts her hand.

"People, guys, girls, I’ve got something to say."

John looks up with the usual twist in his stomach, but he’s so used to pretending by now that he automatically forces his expression into calm contentment.

Ronnie smiles cheekily, but it feels so incredibly cold underneath the surface that John wonders how come he’s the only one shivering.

"I should have been waiting two more days with this," Ronnie says, chuckling as all the gazes are focused on her, "but I'm too excited. Joe, would you grab my purse for me, please? That green one."

Joe obeys without batting an eye, smiling briefly when he hands her the purse, and Ronnie smiles in his direction without actually looking at him as she takes it from his hand.

"John," Ronnie says, and John suddenly feels like being called out at an exam he didn't prepare for. "Hubby. Your birthday is coming up, and I've got you something. I should be waiting for the actual day, but I'm too curious to see if you like it."

John flushes dark red, looking at her questioningly. Ronnie glows at him as she continues, taking out a small box from her purse.

John stares, his face hurting from an awkward smile.

"A few days ago Ginnie asked me whether I found her ring after swimming, and that reminded me that you haven't been wearing your wedding ring for a while."

Yes, he hasn't been wearing his ring since the eighties, none of those actually. Why does she bring it up after more than fifteen years?

"So last time when I went to the village I saw this and immediately thought about you. Think of this as a strengthening of our vow."

He watches as the box opens between her fingers, revealing a ring inside, a thick gold one, an almost exact replica of his original wedding ring that he’s… lost somewhere on a tour. Except this has "For John, My Loving Husband" written on it.

He faintly hears the whole family cheering as his lips part dumbfounded.

"Amazing, you're so lucky, John!" Ginnie says, her voice cheerful as John reaches out his hand to let Ronnie put the ring on his finger. It's… very sweet, and his smile is honest for a second, the surprise is almost pleasant.

From the corner of his eye, he can see Joe pretending to drop his fork so he can get under the table to pick it up, catching a glimpse of the boy’s ears burning red with anger.

Poor Joe, so obvious, so, so obvious.

John quickly kisses his wife, watching Ronnie close her eyes.

But John can't escape like Joe, and all eyes are on him except the kids’, expecting him to say something nice.

John fights the urge to cover his face with his hands, he can't stand all the people staring at him, he's blinking back anxious tears. He hasn't been suffocating this badly since a horde of fans cornered him and demanded his autograph and there were so many of them and they were so loud and they closed around him and shouted and he just fake smiled and rubbed his eyes and kept signing their papers and photos of a life he wanted to leave behind—

At least tears can be played off as happiness.

Perhaps.

It lasts for a few seconds, and he inhales deeply and forces another smile on his face, just as he's learned to. He should be grateful, right? A present from his wife. Proof of her love. He should be thankful.

Except all three of them know what this is about.

Joe was right. She's not afraid to mark her territory.

He briefly wonders what has gotten into them.

What is this person Ronnie's becoming, familiar but foreign, like a reflection on the surface of a marsh.

What is this thing that he's becoming, far from a wolf, like Joe calls him, but more like a helpless, scared little rabbit, dragged and torn apart by an eagle and a fox.

All of this triggered by—

Joe comes up from under the table, smiling and playing it cool, and John wants to look at him so badly, look at him and tell him…

Tell him what?

That all of this is his fault?

Or that this ring doesn't mean anything?

He wants to puke.

"Wow, Ronnie, I don't know what to say. It’s… very beautiful," he forces it out. Ronnie grins at him as he grabs both of his wife's hands and strokes her fingers, and he faintly sees Joe staring into his plate when he kisses her again, the taste of her lips is bitter like medicine.

"Thank you. My hand indeed feels less naked," he tries a really lame joke but it's all he can manage, and he looks at their twined hands, their rings glistening in the incandescent light. He tightens his fingers around her perfectly manicured hands, and Ronnie smiles at him, very contented and proud.

Not of the two them. Of herself.

John doesn’t look away.

He grabs the nearest bottle of booze when the conversation switches away from him and the ring, pouring himself a whiskey and gorging it down, then another.

The heat in his esophagus numbs him down a bit.

Ronnie knows, and she's waiting for the opportunity to…

To what?

He looks at Joe who stubbornly avoids his gaze.

John drinks one more, becoming even more numb, until his only thought becomes the fear of Joe wanting to cancel the trip.

Nothing else.

Yes, he's pretty sure he's going mad.

 

"Do you like the ring? Are you happy to be married to me?" Ronnie asks that night in their bed as they’re lying on their sides, their legs twined.

_‘Do you still love me?’_

"Yes, it's very pretty. And why wouldn't I be?" John asks, almost automatically. "I care about you."

_Say it say it say it out loud_

"I love you."

Ronnie smiles then, believing him or not, he can't tell, his nerve endings are on fire.

He couldn't talk to Joe since dinner.

Joe.

Ronnie slips her hands under his t-shirt, and John sighs onto her lips. Her touch is pleasant. She knows how to make him feel good and how to turn him on…

He sighs, and tenses, and gasps.

She's touching him and he’s numb.

"Ronnie," he asks suddenly, and his wife lifts her eyes from his body. "Do you love me still?"

Ronnie looks at him as if not understanding the question. "Of course I do. Why are you asking? I've always wanted the best for you. The good and right things."

She smiles, pulling her hand away and curling against him, and John lets out some of the tension, gently stroking her back.

But Ronnie starts kissing his neck, pressing herself to his side before slowly moving to straddle him, taking off her nightgown, leading his hands onto her breasts.

He drinks in the sight of her body, the curve of her hips.

She's almost fifty, older than him by a few months, she bore six children, but she's still pretty.

_'I'm praying for you when you're confused.'_

Nothing.

He feels… numb.

He keeps caressing her breasts, her nipples, observing her arousal…

He suddenly flips them over and licks and kisses her neck, searching for a sweaty, musky, distinctive smell that's frustratingly not there. It makes him almost angry, but maybe that can be interpreted as lust, and he feels _something_ as flashes of red hair and a pointy fox-face pop up in his mind, but he pushes them aside as he kisses his way down her stomach to eat her. Her familiar juices now taste somehow sour, but she moans as he gives it to her, and he gasps and laps at her angrily, circling her clit and sliding a finger into her, hoping he can make her come like this so he doesn't have to—

Ronnie pushes him back until John's sitting on his heels, and she's reaching for his cock—

He looks away, his face burning.

There's a pause as Ronnie's hand stills.

Silence.

John opens his mouth to say something. Anything.

"I'm sorry… I drank more than I should have… There’s a lot going on in my head. I’m turning fifty soon, this vacation is almost over…"

His voice fades stupidly.

"No, it's okay," Ronnie says quietly after a minute of silence, patting his hand. "It happens. I’m sure you have a lot on your mind nowadays."

John doesn't say anything, the shame and fear eating away his stomach like acid.

He wonders why they even bother pretending.

It's because the price is high, and they both know it.

 

_"Joe?"_

Even the font of his text looks desperate on the screen.

It's an eternity until the reply comes.

_"Whats up, John? Arent you having gratitude sex? Paying for the little present with your body?"_

John rubs his jaw. That goes too far, and it hurts like hell.

He knows he deserves it, but he doesn't want to be in pain anymore, he can't lose both worlds, no, he just can't…

He doesn't want to lose either of them.

_"Hey, don't talk to me like this. What should I have done? Are you that mad?"_

He waits. And waits. And waits—

_"Im not sure what I feel anymore but its a lot"_

At least it's honest.

_"I'm sorry I'm hurting you. I never meant to. Do you still want to go?"_

He waits anxiously, half of him hoping for a no, because that would be the best, there's still a way to undo this and pretend it never happened and if he backed off now, maybe Ronnie would be willing to forget what she knows or suspects—

Except all he can think of is Joe and the promise of relief.

_"Yeah"_

He chokes back an almost hysterical sound, a strange mixture of relief and regret.

_You're pathetic._

_"I'm glad. 5AM outside?"_

He has to wait a lot, probably Joe's version of punishment.

_"I wouldnt miss it for a shooting"_

He smiles weakly, rubbing his burning eyes.

What's done is done.

 

Ronnie's lying there like sleeping beauty in the first light of dawn, and he's watching her before kissing her goodbye.

"I love you," he whispers to her, because it's true, like a universal absolute.

_Stay._

She stirs in her sleep, murmuring something that sounds like "be good".

_Stay…_

John stares at her for a while before he turns and heads downstairs, and he steps out of the house into the first golden rays of light, into the silence and mist and dew.

Joe is waiting for him on the grass already, impatiently chewing on an oat bar with his backpack on, the sunlight stumbling over his hair into nothingness.

He half-smiles at John and gestures ‘let's go’ with his head; and John inhales deeply before following him into the wild.

 

"Come on, goddad!"

John grunts in answer, looking at the boy ahead of him, a few meters above him on the hill, grinning down at John. The backpacks are heavy and John’s sweating, especially under the straps, and he takes a huge gulp from a water bottle.

Joe’s energy is flowing freely now that there's only the two of them, and John is basking in it like a cat in the sunlight.

Joe runs away from him, and John groans, rolling his eyes as he climbs the hill only by sheer willpower.

"What takes you so long?"

"I'm carrying your stuff too, sweetheart, in case you’ve forgotten!"

"Oh, yeah, I’m sorry!" Joe grins, not sounding sorry at all, his face is one huge grin as the runs down, tugging at the backpacks and taking them and running away with them.

"Chase me!" He yells, and John shakes his head, climbing after the boy until they arrive at the top, and Joe waits for him, grinning as John reaches him, throwing the backpacks down and jumping into John’s arms.

John groans as he spins the boy around, and they hug each other, panting. The boy’s shirt is soaked like John’s and his body radiates heat.

John pokes his nose.

"Why do you force an old man to do this much cardio?"

Joe giggles like he took laughing gas, all wild and carefree, and John really, really loves him like this.

"I just want to keep you fit and energetic for me. Look, I even got you food," Joe grins, holding out his hand, full of blackberries he’s found on the bushes, feeding John from his palm, and John chuckles as he nips them up.

John playfully kisses him then, smearing the black juice between their lips, and Joe immediately deepens the kiss, opening up and already tapping around inside John’s mouth with his tongue, arms tangling around his waist.

John chuckles into the kiss, ending it with a wet smack.

"What if I won't have energy left for… later?" he murmurs cheekily into Joe's ears, watching his eyes widen.

"Oooh…" Joe smiles slowly. "Then you go and sit in your rocking chair to rest, old man, and I'll take care of all the things."

"Hah! You can't even light a proper campfire," John mocks him, taking his hand, crossing the field of grass to the small cottage that stands there, and Joe caprioles behind him like a wild little fox.

The cottage is very small, cute and cozy, and looks clean as well.

There are two beds with bedding and pillows and blankets and everything they’d need, and John winks at Joe as he pushes them together, Joe grinning as he rolls out their sleeping bags to make it extra padded and comfy.

"Will you gather us some firewood?"

"Sure, cap'n," Joe salutes and he gallops out.

John looks around the cottage. Very cozy. Better than a cabin in the woods, he jokes to himself.

He goes outside, finding Joe hanging off a tree branch upside down, grinning at him, and John hurries to him and kisses him, chuckling. Their upside-down kiss is awkward and funny, and Joe's face is really red by the end of it.

"Are you a bat now?" John asks, reaching to tickle the boy, but Joe already has his arms around himself protectively.

"Spiderman," Joe answers, groaning as he pulls himself up.

John looks at the tiny pile of wood Joe had collected before he got distracted by that tempting tree branch.

"Go fetch some more wood, Spiderman, I'll light the fire."

"Oh, you already lit my fire," Joe coos, and John smacks his butt.

Actually making the campfire is more difficult than he thought because the wood is moist, but he manages to light the small pile he put together, even though he almost burns down his finger hairs. He looks around, very satisfied. The cottage has proper, thick firewood, enough to last all evening once it’s properly lit.

He smiles as he watches Joe galloping around for smaller branches.

 

They’re watching the sunset by the campfire. John is always amazed by the colors, no matter how many sunsets he’s seen already, listening to the fire crackling.

Suddenly Joe’s red fox fur pops up at his shoulder, the boy longingly staring at John's grilled bacon and bread.

John grimaces painfully.

"Joe, stop making this big-eyed puppy face at me, I'm hungry too!"

"I'm still growing! You're only growing sideways from now on."

John laughs, giving him his bread and his zucchini but gently smacking him in the head.

"Fine. But the bacon is mine."

He never fails to be amused by the amount of food Joe can eat, and he watches him, admiring his baby features and he has the sudden urge to stroke his soft skin.

He reaches out to caress Joe's cheek that’s round with a bite, and Joe smiles at him with his mouth full and eyes closed like a very contented fox, chuckling as John pokes his cheek.

“I’m happy that Joseph suggested this place,” John says, and Joe grins, swallowing the bite.

“I might have… planted the idea into his head. ‘Oh dad, I don’t know when I will see John again, it makes me so sad’…”

“You did?” John is surprised but also not surprised by how sly his boy is, patting his head. “Nice job.”

“I go after what I want.” Joe looks very satisfied with himself, not unlike his dad, and John laughs. He likes them both so much.

“I’ve seen that.”

He stares at the sunset again, enjoying the quiet and the food and Joe's company over the pillows Joe has brought out to make the campfire comfortable.

He’s calm. It's like breathing fresh air after being in a cave for days.

"John?"

"Hmm?"

Joe swallows the bite. "How does it feel like, um, sleeping with a woman?"

John almost spits out his bacon.

"Well, they don't snore as loudly—"

"Come ooon," Joe whines, rolling his eyes up at the sky. "That's not what I meant."

"I figured. What, uh, what do you want to know? Not that I'm that much of an expert."

"Sure you aren't," Joe says, mocking him. "I bet you've slept with like a hundred."

John snorts.

"Already asking me about my sexual history, Joe? Don’t push it, son."

"Jooohn, I’m just curious, I don't want to be nosy, but who should I ask? Dad? Watch porn? Porn is gross."

"Gross?" John raises an eyebrow.

"Gross for me, I don't watch it."

"Every teenager watches it, how come you don’t?"

"I prefer, uh, written erotica, okay?" Joe’s blushing, and John laughs at him after staring at him for a few seconds in disbelief. Romance novels, ey?

"Okay, okay, I believe you." He sighs theatrically. "Kids, they grow up so fast. I guess it’s time to talk about the birds and the bees…"

"Hey!" Joe grimaces, throwing a pillow at him. "Not about that! I just, you know, uh, I’m curious how it feels like uh, doing it with a woman."

Maybe he's indeed just curious about things… How things work. Or maybe what John has done with women that he doesn't do with Joe…

He’s embarrassed. "Um…"

"Like, how do you make a woman come? How does it feel like to have ‘regular’ sex and how do condoms work and how many times can you come?"

"Why are you asking?" John eyes him curiously. "Are you bisexual?"

"Um… Maybe…"

"Ever had a crush on a girl before?"

"Well, yeah, but…" Joe seems to be thinking about it genuinely. "I honestly haven’t even thought about it that much. Yeah, there were girls I might have wanted to sleep with but… I don't know. I didn't make a move at them. Usually, they made a move at me."

"So you’re bi?"

"Nah, I don't know." Joe throws himself on the blanket, putting a pillow under his head. "I guess I want whoever I want, who cares. Does it matter?"

"No, you’re right, I don’t think it really matters anymore. Unless you want to have kids or something. I couldn't have had them back then if I were with a man."

"Yeah, but things are changing now!" Joe sits up again excitedly like trying to encourage himself and John as well. "I think I could adopt if I wanted to. I'd love to have kids! I want a thousand like you, and I want to be a young dad when I still have energy and I’m still flexible and, you know."

"You’ll be a wonderful father." John smiles at him tenderly, watching the enthusiastic blush on his face.

"You think so?" Joe is looking at him with huge heart eyes now.

"Yes, if you don't eat up their food," John says, bursting out in laughter, and Joe’s smile fades.

"Hey—"

"I'm just mocking you." John strokes his hair. "So, what do you want to know about sex?"

Joe turns red.

"I don't know. Everything. How does it feel like to be inside a woman's…?"

John blushes slightly, too.

"Her pussy?" He’s looking for the words, but he can't really describe it without sounding cliché. "Well, it's very hot and soft, like, I don't know, like being in a very soft, warm… pillow that was tailor-made for you. It's really good, uh, wet and tight all the way… No wonder men go crazy for it."

"Some women, too." Joe winks.

"I guess." John smiles back.

"And how's it like being inside a man? Is it different?"

Damn, he's asking the most awkward questions.

John thinks back and swallows at the memory.

"Yes, a bit. It's so hot and uh, very very tight at the uh, entrance, and it can be very, uh, rough, oh my god, Joe, stop making me feel embarrassed…"

Joe's red, too, and they both laugh after a pause.

"How do you make a woman cum?"

John scratches his head.

"Um… I think it depends. Of course, you could touch the most obvious parts, like the clit, but some of them only like it if you stroke them around it for example, so pay attention to her reactions. Lots of communication. Everyone likes different things I guess."

Joe nods seriously before grinning.

"How far can you shoot?"

"What?" John shakes his head. "I never measured it. It must be a thing of your generation."

"I bet I can shoot farther than you. And last longer!"

"Yeah, right, sure," John grins, ruffling Joe’s hair. "Don't make it a competition. Sex is not about that."

"I knooow, I'm just screwing with you. Won't you tell me how many women you’ve slept with? I bet there was a lot. I bet a rock star like you attended all the sex parties and everything."

John narrows his eyes. Joe has been asking very delicate questions, and he’s been patient answering them, but it’s getting into personal territory.

"You're too young to know about those sorts of things."

Of course, that only piques Joe's interest, who seems to love the idea of John participating in orgies for some reason. He nestles closer to John, trying to seduce the answer out of him with huge doe eyes.

John rolls his eyes as he thinks back of the eighties. There were some… things indeed he’s not proud of, but not what Joe imagines. Better leave it like this.

He kind of wishes they never happened.

He kind of wishes he’d have a clean slate, with Joe.

"Jooohn…"

He decides to mess with him a bit.

"Oh, little one," he says in a mysterious voice, he lifts Joe’s chin and whispers on his lips, "if you knew how many I've fucked, how many sex parties I've participated in, I can't even count. All those pretty, pretty girls, and even some boys, swarming at the door, waiting to get backstage… All the cocaine I snorted off their thighs…"

Joe's almost drooling as he's listening to him, his wide eyes locking with John's, but then John can’t keep a straight face and breaks out in laughter, and Joe's starry gaze disappears.

"Damn, John, I really did fall for that for a second."

"I noticed, but I was only joking. My sex life is quite uninteresting 'for a rock star’."

At least it was until now… now it's anything but.

"John?"

There are those gleaming eyes again, and John groans.

"Please, Joe, don't ask me about my sexual history anymore. You already know what you needed to know."

"John… What's it like to be a father?"

This surprises John. He has to think for a second.

"Well… It's a hard one." He thinks of his children, the days they were born, and the day Joe was born as well. "The kids… they are like a part of you outside your body. You love them fiercely and unconditionally, and you would die for them without hesitation."

He chuckles as he remembers the fits they can throw, the screaming they can make.

"Sometimes they exhaust you and try you, and just when you’re about to say fuck it, I'm not doing this anymore, they do something incredibly sweet and steal your heart again." He smiles tenderly at Joe, who's listening to him intently. "And then they piss you off again and the cycle continues."

The stars have come up in the meantime. Joe looks up at them smiling, and John watches Joe’s glistening face, observing how beautiful he is.

He smiles, putting a hand on Joe’s shoulder, gently rubbing it.

"I meant what I said. You'll be a wonderful father."

"Do you really think so?" Joe turns to look into his eyes.

"Yes, you have the determination and the humor. And the heart."

John kisses his forehead, but Joe is searching for his mouth.

"Aw, I'd love to be a young dad," Joe says, smiling against John’s lips between two pecks.

John closes his eyes as they’re kissing slowly, and images of Joe, an older Joe are popping up, laughing with two kids hanging off his neck, pointing at the animals in the zoo.

"I hope you will be," John whispers, "you'll be so good, so loving."

Joe looks absolutely adorable, closing his eyes as he’s fantasizing about his future family.

"I'll have six like you, and five of them will be girls and I'm gonna throw tea parties with them, and my son is going to be the smallest of them so he'll have older sisters to protect him…"

John laughs.

"You like the thought, don't you," he says, hugging him and Joe nestles against him. "You’re adorable."

"Hey, I’m not! I’m manly as fuck," Joe pokes him, and John pokes him back and tickles him.

"Yes, you are."

Joe is laughing with that open-mouthed, tooth-revealing laughter that makes John’s heart race, throwing himself on the blanket.

John can’t resist. He doesn't want to anymore.

He lies next to him, and Joe’s laughter fades as he looks at him, his lips parted. In his eyes millions of things he wants to say as John cups his face, and Joe closes his eyes at his touch.

John can't believe how smooth his skin is, even with the slight hint of soft stubble. How pliant his mouth is as his thumb is sliding over it.

"John." His name is but a whisper on Joe's lips.

"Say my name again," John asks gently, running the back of his fingers over the cheekbones, lightly licking the outline of Joe's lips with darting touches of the very tip of his tongue.

"John," Joe breathes, and John captures the word with his mouth.

Joe moans, immediately holding onto his shoulder and eagerly opening his mouth. John can feel his heart melting at how clumsy and hungry Joe is as he's searching for John's tongue with his own, and he returns the caress before pulling away and smiling at him.

"Relax, Joe, relax. I'm not going anywhere."

"You aren't?" Joe asks with shining eyes, and it would be childish if there weren't hundreds of layers underneath it.

John responds by kissing him again.

Joe licks at his lips again like he can’t have enough. He’s delicious and his eagerness is so exciting, but John’s going to teach him how to savour it.

"Loosen your lips a bit, little one," he whispers as he’s devouring those red, pouty lips, moving his mouth against them, tenderly taking them between his teeth. Joe moans, pulling him closer as his hands awkwardly roam over John’s shoulders, tightening in them when John pulls away slightly. John hears himself whispering as if sharing a secret. "Wait with the tongue a little. Try to just feel my lips first, it's more intimate—"

Joe nods, like the good student he is, pressing small kisses on John's lips, and teaching Joe how to kiss well makes the blood boil in John’s veins. Their open mouths are clashing wetly, and Joe tastes like a safe haven.

"Does it feel good?" John asks, panting as he presses small pecks on Joe's face, having flashbacks of his own awkward first makeout sessions as he’s caressing Joe’s cheekbones.

"Yeah— want more," Joe gasps, closing his eyes and attacking his mouth again before pushing John over and laying on top of him. His hand wanders to John’s crotch, but John gently pulls it away.

"Patience, little one… All in good time."

Joe pouts but nods, and John is looking up at him, the lust in his face framed by flaming hair, and he thinks that this is it, this fiery creature straight from the deepest pits of hell will be the end of him, his angel from the heavens will be his salvation.

"Let me taste your tongue now," John whispers, opening his mouth against Joe's when the kid leans down, letting him slip his tongue in again. Joe does it slower and more carefully than last time, and John moans as he's sucking on it lightly. The boy really is a fast learner…

"The others I’ve kissed— my age, they were not this good-" Joe pants, apparently happy to learn, and John’s arms tighten around him possessively, lavishing his lips with kisses even harder.

He lets himself go and Joe follows his lead, each kiss becoming deeper and hungrier than the previous one. Joe is moaning into his mouth now, savouring him with wet, open-mouthed kisses for what seems like hours, and John can feel Joe's wandering hands again, grabbing at him, slipping under his shirt.

John grabs his hands, slowly flipping them over so he’s on top of Joe, and Joe opens his mouth for him again, the taste of his kiss is like an aphrodisiac.

John withdraws, looking down at the boy's face, his eyes closed and his lips are parted, trying to coax out more kisses from John.

"Are you enjoying it?"

"I enjoy everything you do." Joe is looking up at him, slowly winking. Very flirtatious. "You're so talented in everything, Mr. Deacon."

John laughs, caressing the boy’s face.

"Do you think so, Mr. Mazzello?"

Joe laughs, throwing his head back just like his dad does before continuing flirting, running his hands along John’s arms until he can twine their fingers.

"Oh, yes. When your long, looong fingers caress those… bass strings… I lose my mind."

John grins, Joe’s playfulness rubbing at him and he feels elevated once again, but this time he doesn't have to be cautious.

Tonight, there's only the two of them, and they can be…

Free.

"Want to know what else I'm talented in, sweetheart?"

Joe’s lips part and the boy inhales a sharp breath.

"Show me." He swallows. "Show me yourself. I want to see your body so much-"

John kneels up above the boy, suddenly hesitating for a second — Joe is so young and beautiful compared to him, and even though they’ve slept together before and they've seen each other naked, he can't help being a little self-conscious about his body.

But Joe looks at him like he was the moon, and John sighs, briefly shaking his head as an encouragement for himself.

He wiggles his hips a little as he takes off his t-shirt, revealing his body, and Joe stares at him, his hands carefully touching John’s chest, slowly tapping him with fingertips.

John leans over him, growling tenderly in his ear.

"Isn’t it past your bedtime, baby fox?" He slides his stubble against Joe’s soft neck, his smooth skin, and the boy moans. "Aren’t you afraid that a big bad wolf is going to eat you?"

"I’m not scared of the big wolf," Joe murmurs. "I want him. I’m gonna find him even if he runs away-"

"Such a young, cunning little fox, always looking for danger," John purrs as he’s dragging his chin across Joe’s collarbones, feeling him moaning and arching for more contact-

John then chuckles as he tenderly pins the boy’s hands down, whispering into his ear.

"Catch me if you can."

"What?" Joe opens his eyes, enchanted, aroused and confused; and John grins, stripping naked, throwing his shorts and underwear next to Joe who sits up.

John sprints away before turning back, inviting Joe closer with his hands.

Joe's first instinct, just as he expected, is to go after him.

"Joooohn, what the fuck?" John stops to lean on his knees with giggling, watching Joe also undress and run after him, holding his cock with a hand. "It's weird to run with a boner!"

John laughs so hard that tears are running down his face and the whole valley echoes.

"Very funny!" Joe yells, smacking John's butt when he reaches him, and John winks, gesturing him closer, pressing a kiss on the boy's lips.

"Let's go in," John whispers, pushing him away before running into the water and plunging in, the cold stinging for a few seconds but he quickly forgets about it as he's watching Joe run to the end of the mole and do a cannonball with a loud yell.

He’s almost worried when the boy doesn't come up in the first few seconds, but then Joe pops up next to him all cold and dripping, his red, wet hair sticking to his forehead and he swipes it aside, grinning at John, and John takes him in his arms to warm up his slender body in a tight embrace.

They kiss in the cold water under the stars, the bright orange spot of the campfire in contrast with the blueness of the sky and the lake, and Joe’s skin is spotted with glistening drops like little stars, his hair is wet, and John kisses his smile as Joe wraps his legs around him. John holds him by his naked, cold little butt and slowly spins him around-

Joe breaks the kiss to grin at him, a cheeky teenager smile with deep admiration and unrestricted happiness under it.

"Are we sword fighting now?"

John laughs as Joe is pressing up against him, enjoying the feel of their erections against each other's, but then he playfully pushes the boy away and splashes backwards into the water.

"Race me to the reeds," he says, and Joe takes a deep breath and dives under, his strokes are frantic because he wants to beat John. John is tempted for a second to prank the boy and just stay in place, but Joe takes it seriously so he goes after him, reaching him at the reeds and grabbing his shoulders.

"No cheating!" Joe yells as he slips from his arms, and John grins before following him back to the shore.

Joe reaches the shore, panting, John is just a bit behind him; and he’s watching Joe’s silhouette, the light of the fire giving his naked body a golden lining, and he’s so beautiful that John can't resist; he runs after him and jumps into his neck, and Joe laughs with him as they fall over, both of them ending up in the shallow water.

When they get tired of the play fight, Joe pulls John to the fire, shivering and dripping, but both of them laughing happily.

"Warm me up, goddad," Joe whispers sensually, and John doesn’t need to be told twice.

He's going to gorge up the boy.

He takes him in his arms, covering him with kisses and caresses and small bites until Joe is moaning, holding onto John and kissing him and caressing him back.

John’s reveling in every second, every sensation.

Joe's face under his lips, the slightest hint of stubble.

The shape of the jaw as he runs his thumb over it, the lips parting under his finger and gently wrapping around it.

The batting of long eyelashes against his face as he moves to kiss that nose, that pointy fox-nose poking his as John goes in for a kiss.

The soft pliantness of lips, opening under the pressure of his own, the tip of a tongue inviting his in, tickling, caressing.

John moans as he pulls away, basking in the heat of those young arms, that smooth body, his lips gently discovering the details he's skipped until now. The shape of the throat; his Adam's apple bobbing as Joe swallows; the small patch of leftover beard the boy missed when shaving; those sharp collarbones running towards the shoulders; the dust of faint freckles on that flat little chest; the dark red nipples he touches with his tongue.

_More._

Their fingers twining, squeezing, his hands sliding all over those long arms towards the armpit, Joe giggling at the tickle.

His tongue sliding over the midriff and the ridges of ribs as awkward fingers are fiddling in his hair, the chest rising with rapid breaths.

_More…_

His tongue circling around the shallow hollow of a navel, his thumbs running over the peaks of pointy hip bones, his mouth softly pulling on the hair, sucking love bites on the skin where hip meets thigh, the fingers in his hair tightening, the hips bucking up into his touch.

_More!_

And the boy is laying there for him to enjoy.

"You’re so beautiful, so eager for me," John whispers, kissing his way along Joe's body, dragging his stubbled cheek over his inner thighs, kissing along his legs to his ankles, then going back until he reaches the trail of hair under Joe’s navel, and Joe moans and twists, apparently having fun.

Joe’s erection is straining against his stomach, and John observes the shape and the size before fastening his mouth over it and exhaling warmly, watching Joe twitch and groan.

"John," Joe whimpers, lifting his hips instinctively. "Please, ah- please-"

At last… all his. He can finally smell it, Joe’s cock, finally have it in front of him like a delicious, savoury dessert, just waiting to be gorged. His mouth is watering at Joe’s scent, the sight of the smooth, pink skin covering his very hard, very eager dick, the glistening drops of precum.

"Please what?" he asks as he breathes on it, partly as teasing, partly needing reassurance, he will ask Joe a hundred times if needed but he won’t do anything the boy doesn’t want.

Joe’s face is scarlet as he’s leaning back on his elbows, hungrily watching John kiss his thighs, and spreading them wider in an invitation. His body is trembling, and John doesn’t think the boy will even last a minute, damn, he can't even answer.

"You have such a perfect body," John murmurs, kissing his stomach, digging his fingertips into the flat planes of Joe's chest. Every inch of Joe is so beautiful to him… Hell, he even doubts he will last, but it’s okay. They have the whole night.

A whole night…

He kisses Joe's lips again, moving across his face to his earlobe, and Joe desperately hangs onto him.

"Can I… can I suck this beautiful cock?" John whispers in Joe’s ear, tracing a finger over his length, and Joe is panting frantically, looking at him with hopeful eyes, his pupils blown wide.

"Yes please suck it please-"

John smiles, nestling himself between Joe's legs, staring again at Joe's cock, so deliciously close.

"Been wanting to do this for so long," he murmurs as he slowly touches the head with his tongue, lapping up the small droplets before he leans down and dives in.

He seals his lips around it, just letting the boy feel the heat of his mouth; and oh, Joe does feel it, he’s releasing the sweetest obscene sounds, already a panting mess, fingers tentatively caressing John's hair.

John’s stunned by how hot and hard it feels between his lips. He can tell that Joe is enjoying it, too; he hears him holding his breath at first before letting out a long, drawn-out mewl, he feels the trembling, the slim fingers tangling in his hair.

The reality of it suddenly kicks in, and John inhales deeply before sinking down, saliva flooding his mouth and chemicals rushing in his blood.

He’s finally doing this again, and he moans as he treasures every second of it, he maps each vein with his lips, lets the taste fill his mouth and spread on his tongue, the scent of Joe fill his nose and shoot straight into his brain.

God, how he's missed doing this. How he's missed cock. How he's missed those little twitches, the shape of the silky cockhead under his tongue, the texture of coarse hair that John gently tugs on as he gasps for air and swirls his tongue and tightens his lips with every downward slide like the enthusiastic young pupil he used to be-

"Fuck— fuckfuck," Joe squeals, and John snaps out of it and stops, probably just at the right moment because Joe curses, his hips jerk, head thrown back. But he doesn’t come, and John grins as he resumes after a few seconds.

"Good?" He gasps out, and Joe only answers with something sounding like _nngghh_ , pushing deeper into his mouth, and he tastes so goddamn amazing as his cock hits the back of his throat that John's losing his mind.

Joe is enjoying it, but this is not only about Joe.

John's doing this for himself.

Joe’s too pure and beautiful not to be touched. He wants to put his hands on every single part of the boy, he wants to discover everything he has, take everything he has to offer.

He wants to taste him everywhere.

He lets Joe’s cock pop out of his mouth.

_Want more._

Going lower and lower, his nose nudging the base of Joe’s dick, his tongue tickling the underside of his balls, firm and heavy. The taste is intense as it’s spreading on his tongue, musky and strong as he buries his nose between hip and thigh, it floods his mind, Joe’s moans framing it, making the rest of his inhibitions go away.

_Mine._

He enjoys the tautness of the balls as his lips are kissing them, the flesh of the thighs as his fingers dig into them, the gentle tickle of thigh hair on his lips. The soft flesh of hips and the pointy hip bones, the hardness of a cock in his hand, his other hand pressing a thigh up, up—

_Mine…_

Joe’s all his, all of him is his to enjoy. He faintly hears some mewls coming from above as he grabs those slender thighs, not even realizing what he’s been after until now. Lower, lower, his tongue slipping down, finding and sliding across that hidden little entrance-

An eager growl escapes his lips as if he’s found something he didn't know he was searching for. Joe’s whining questioningly, but John just licks his lips, letting his tongue sweep gently through the sensitive skin, and Joe cries out as if he’s been slapped, his hips rising, and John finds himself tangled in his long, long legs.

_MINE_

John tastes that familiar musk he hadn't realized he's been missing, pushing the thighs back against Joe’s chest even more, his tongue reaching that soft, pink hole and pressing against it-

Joe groans with pure pleasure, his hands brushing against John’s as he holds up his own legs, his feet finding support on John’s shoulders, and John grins as he feels the boy’s body yearning for more, his needy moans echoing in the valley, and the strength of his response thrills him like nothing ever, he can feel precum dribbling down his own cock-

_You’re mine... everywhere and every way._

Grasping Joe’s hips, he leans in again, spreading him further and giving it to him, giving rhythm to the series of needy moans as he plays him like an instrument, brushing his tongue harder, faster over that little hole but not breaching yet, and the taste is so strong and mind-blowing and he gasps for air and exhales on the soft skin, and there’s an inarticulate groan coming from above and there’s a twitch of hips and John is getting high as the boy is almost sobbing with need now-

John knows how it feels.

He knows the warmth of the lapping, the wet brushes of a tongue sending electricity across his spine, the tingling sensation of being driven mad with lust; and he whimpers needily, wanting to have more, to give more, to taste more. He faintly feels Joe shivering and trembling and babbling out an amalgamation of _fuck_ and _god_ and _John,_ and John’s cock jerks in response like Joe’s pleasure was his own, a moan from his wet, swollen lips blowing warm air over Joe’s hole, and the boy squeals-

With one hand he reaches up to fondle Joe’s balls and grasp his cock, hungrily lapping at his entrance before finally plunging in, all the way in, and Joe cries out sharply and he twitches and comes and clenches around John’s tongue, and there’s pressure in John’s spine and his deep groan is muffled by Joe’s flesh and his breath hitches and his whole body tenses as bliss is shooting all over his body-

His face is still buried between Joe’s legs as they come down, and he doesn’t want to move ever again.

Joe tenderly caresses his hair as they lie there, panting, John resting his head on Joe’s thigh.

"That… was… amazing," Joe whispers, and John grins dizzily.

"You deserve the best."

"Kiss me," Joe asks then, but John chuckles dismissively.

"I just ate you out. I’m kissing you after I washed my mouth."

"Wasn't it… uh… clean?" Joe asks, turning scarlet, but John pats his tummy.

"It was, don’t worry, but better safe than sorry. Be right back."

He gets into the house, rinsing his mouth with some water and some whiskey he has in his flask, bringing a bottle of juice for Joe.

"Thanks." Joe takes a huge gulp, looking at John's crotch. "You’re still hard. Haven't you come?"

"Oh." Indeed. John takes a look at himself, tapping the head of his dick that is smooth and dry. "I thought I did, it certainly felt like it, so… I don't know."

He really doesn't know. He wouldn't be surprised if the was so attuned to Joe that he felt his orgasm like it was his own… He shakes his head.

"Want me to take care of it?" Joe asks sensually, kneeling up and running his hands up John's thighs, biting his lower lip.

"It’s okay. Regenerate now because I’m going to make love to you again." John winks at him, and Joe blushes visibly.

They sit for a while, just watching the fire and talking, their naked bodies warm against each other’s, and John’s watching as Joe puts some wood on the fire.

Two restless animals out in the wild, enjoying nature and each other.

 

John’s watching Joe's silhouette as he's roasting marshmallows over the fire, making little sandwiches out of them with biscuits and a layer of chocolate, handing them to John.

"What are these?"

"S’mores."

John tentatively tastes one.

"How is it?" Joe is looking at him with bright eyes, watching his reactions.

John thinks his jaw might stick together.

"Umm… they are inedibly sweet."

Joe’s smile disappears, giving room to a pained grimace.

"You're such a papa, only liking sausage and meat, and then you'll complain about your arthritis."

"And you're going to be a round fox if you keep gorging all those sweets up."

Joe laughs, all of his pointy teeth showing.

"I'm gonna exercise it down. And you can help me with it," he purrs, rubbing his face against John's shoulder as he stands on all fours, arching his back into a hump, and for a second John can even imagine that he sees a fox tail wagging behind Joe’s butt.

"It doesn't work like that," John says, patting the boy's soft hair.

"Ahh, papa wolf," Joe pouts, "let me just enjoy my holiday, we're going to leave soon anyway."

Damn, the boy’s right. It stings into his chest. He doesn't want to think about it, and Joe begins to look a little sad to.

"Oh, fine, get chubby then, like the baby you are."

Joe sticks his tongue at him. "Ew, now I don't want them anymore."

"Good, more for me," John grins, taking another s’more in his mouth.

"Hey!" Joe smacks his shoulder. "I knew you were messing with me."

They keep staring into the fire, chewing quietly for a while, John not even thinking of anything.

"You know, Hot Space really isn't that good."

"What?"

Joe manages to keep a serious face for three whole seconds before he snickers, and John plays offended.

"Oh, you don't like Hot Space? Then I must have hallucinated you dancing to 'Dancer' the other day."

Joe grins, taking out his discman and his headphones, turning the volume to the maximum, it’s still low but loud enough to be heard.

Joe begins a silly little dance which is funny because he’s butt-naked and his cock is just swinging around, and John can't help but throw himself back in laughter. Then he sits up to watch the boy. He really has good dance moves. It's in his bloodline.

John’s watching him, hypnotized, his lips hanging open as the boy sways his hips and turns around and shakes his little bubble butt, and John doesn't know whether to dry up the drool in the corner of his mouth or just let it flow and enjoy the sight. Joe is winking at him above his shoulder before he turns, dancing towards John and sitting in his lap.

The boy is definitely putting up a show for him.

"Oh, John," he whispers, overplaying the sensuality like Vivien Leigh from Gone With the Wind, "I don't know what this amazing feeling is when I see you but it's so hot and gooood…"

John swallows, his throat suddenly dry.

"You know, you don't have to seduce me like this."

You know I'm already yours, he wants to say, but he doesn't.

Joe grins, gently stroking John’s nape and slowly rotating his hips, taking John's hands and putting them on his waist.

"I know. But I really enjoy it."

"I know you do," John whispers, watching the muscles undulating, watching Joe getting hard, he’d be surprised if it wasn't happening, and Joe is sinking down, gently rolling his hips so their hardening cocks touch.

"John…" Joe whispers, less playful now and more aroused, and a little bit desperate, too, "…am I sexy?"

John’s staring at his chest, needing a second to comprehend the question, and he chuckles. "As if you don't know how you make me feel." He lifts a hand and gently circles a nipple.

"I’d like to hear it from you,'' Joe whispers, pressing down so their cocks touching becomes a full contact, and John inhales.

"You’re so very fucking sexy," he whispers, it feels strange to say it, because in this light Joe seems even more lanky and juvenile, but oh so hot…

Being with Joe is the purest form of existence.

He feels free. He doesn't have to think.

He finds himself massaging Joe’s shoulders, and the boy just purrs. John admires the muscles of the tender flesh, the heat of Joe’s thighs around his hips, and he smells his hair, his lips finding their way to his skin…

They are still naked and hot by the light of the campfire, and Joe is clothed in the sun.

John leans back and pulls Joe on top of him, and the boy lets out a giggle as they fall on top of each other in a heap, and John tickles him and Joe yelps and tickles him back, and they laugh, play fighting a little.

But Joe looks a bit unnerved all of a sudden when John kneads his backside and thrusts his hips upwards. He whimpers into John’s mouth, slowly rubbing against him.

"Don’t worry," John purrs, feeling Joe’s excitement and nervousness that mirror his own, but he’s got more experience and he’s letting it do its job. "I will take good care of you. We won’t do anything you don’t want."

"I trust you," Joe nods, rolling off him to his side, gently brushing John’s chest hair, amazed by it.

John smiles. Joe seems to love his body for some reason he doesn't really understand. Joe could have all the young ones he desires, but apparently he doesn't want them. Joe looks at him like he’s hypnotized, John can see his pupils dilating as he tentatively runs a palm over John’s torso, feeling his hair from his chest to his tummy before reaching up to circle one of his nipples, and John feels sparks inside him from the touch, but mainly from the awe and adoration Joe’s staring at him with.

Joe suddenly leans over to take one of his nipples in his mouth, and John groans as Joe’s sucking on it wetly, his hands grabbing Joe’s shoulder.

"You taste like the lake," Joe states as he moves to his other nipple, his hand stroking Johns sides and hips, and John arches into his touch.

"I want to taste you again, too," he says, stroking Joe's shoulder when he stops, and Joe stretches his neck so they can kiss again, his tongue caressing like summer breeze.

"Taste me then," Joe whispers and sits up, looking shyly at John.

‘You’re beautiful," John whispers, watching his own hands covering almost the whole of Joe’s sides, and Joe blushes furiously. So adorable. "Look at you, what a handsome man you're becoming."

"Jooohn," Joe giggles, covering his eyes, "you're embarrassing me."

"I’m just telling the truth. But I can stop," John purrs, gently holding and kissing him again, letting the boy feel their naked chests touching, and Joe wraps his arms around him, lips all soft and wet, hands caressing John’s neck and face.

"No, please, do go on," Joe whispers and John laughs.

He can't help himself anyway, he loves to see the boy flustered. A little playfulness can’t hurt.

"My, look at these shoulders," he says, kissing them each before laying Joe on the blanket, running his hands over Joe’s arm and kissing him lower, admiring the shape of his young, smooth body, the tone of his torso, the color of his nipples. "Look at all these muscles you have here. You’ve become so strong, you can even lift up my kids. My strong Joe. My big, strong godson-"

Joe groans at the word, and John smirks to himself. He’s always surprised how much Joe gets turned on by the wrongness of what they are doing, and John loses his mind at the sound Joe makes as he’s dragging his tongue along Joe’s happy trail.

"Oh, and just look at this cock," he growls, lapping at Joe's dick deliciously, "it’s so pretty, and it belongs to me…"

He knows his dirty talk makes Joe go crazy, and Joe gasps and moans.

"Yeah, talk to me, goddad-"

John grins as he's lapping Joe's dick and balls lusciously again; the previous climax has made his scent even stronger, and John lives for it.

"Yes, do you like it? Such a naughty boy, making me _this_ hard and loving my words-"

"Naughty only for you, John," Joe moans. "Only for you, only for you-"

"Yes… moan for me, darling," John whispers, the hardness and taste and wetness of Joe's cock drives him mad, and he reaches between his legs to touch himself, he can't help it.

"Joe," he hears himself growl, his voice is husky and lustful and full of love, and Joe whimpers and looks down at him.

"I want to do it to you, too," Joe murmurs as he sees John jerking off, stroking John’s cheek.

"You don't have to," John says, but Joe is already pushing him onto his back and covers John's chest in sloppy kisses, brushing his fingers through his hair, softly biting his stomach.

Joe is basically worshipping him, staring at his body with adoration, playing with his nipples and his navel and the curve of his ribcage; he moves to John's thighs and rubs his hands over them. He seems to love them as he keeps stroking them and licking them and biting them, smacking them gently.

John’s impossibly hard as he's watching Joe, and he chuckles and twitches when Joe finds a ticklish spot, and Joe grins, biting the flesh above John's navel, grabbing onto his hip bones. He stops there and looks up at John, desire and insecurity in his eyes.

"I haven't done this— with my mouth yet," he says tentatively, and John smiles at him, stroking his head.

"I can guide you if it helps. But the point is having fun so don't worry too much about it."

Joe nods nervously, swallowing before palming John's cock gently, and John sighs.

It looks so nice. If feels so nice. He can't take his eyes off Joe's hands, and Joe stares at him with his lips parted, the tip of his finger smearing the drops dribbling from the head.

"It's so big," Joe says with eyes wide before burying his face into John’s crotch and just inhaling, breathing him in. "I never imagined my own godfather having this big of a cock…"

Pride and arousal is spreading in John’s chest.

"You like it?"

Joe grins. "Hell yeah."

He gathers some precum on his finger before taking it into his mouth and tasting.

"Mmm," he says appreciatively, then he resumes stroking John's cock, slowly rolling his foreskin up and down while watching it intensely, listening to John moaning and spreading his legs for him.

His dark, flushed cock looks really good with Joe's smooth, pale fingers wrapped around it. John can't take his eyes off the scene in front of him, and Joe pumps him a few times more before suddenly leaning down and taking him into his mouth as deep as he can, his teeth scratching a tiny bit but John doesn't mind.

He groans at the heat and that fucking sight, Joe's soft red lips carefully moving over his length, he doesn't feel his teeth anymore.

It's more perfect than any of his fantasies…

Joe gags a little, but he doesn't seem to be taken aback or embarrassed, he’s eager to please as he continues, holding the base of John's cock while working him with his mouth.

"Yes… just like that," John murmurs encouragingly, running his hands through Joe's silky hair. What a good, hungry boy. He finally feels him around his cock, it's not a dream anymore and it makes him go crazy, he leans back and enjoys the show. "You’re such a good boy for me… ah, fuck yeah, like that… you’re so clever with that mouth-"

Joe moans and John can see him for a second, see him lying on his stomach and rutting against the blanket.

Joe reaches up to gently tug at John's pubic hair, playing with it as he begins to lick, too, and John thinks that maybe he indeed learned something from erotica because it feels so good, and Joe cups his balls, his hand warm and tender, making John’s toes curl.

"Joe, baby," John pants, slowly giving in to the tension building in his stomach, the desire to make this last overwhelmed by the urge to come because it’s been so long- "Please, a little faster-"

Joe comes up for air, saliva dripping from his chin, his eyes dark.

"John—" he gasps out as he goes down on him again, and John trembles from the way it sounds, from the sight and the feel.

"Sweetheart, fuck yes- your tongue feels so good-"

He can't hold back his words, and Joe moans back at his praise, stroking him as he loosens his lips for a second but keeps licking him with the flat of his tongue, focusing it on the head of John’s cock, building up the pressure.

He seems to be loving it.

He seems to be having the time of his life as he comes up for air and grins and kisses John’s shaft before going back, licking and stroking, and John groans at the sudden heat spreading in his loins, tapping Joe's shoulder.

"Joe, I'm there, I'm-" he manages to gasp out as a warning, but Joe hums and sinks down deeply on him and doesn't let him go, and John holds onto his shoulder and groans as he spurts, again and again, and Joe takes all of it before letting it dribble out of his mouth onto John's crotch.

_Whoa._

John’s lying on his back and watching the trees for a good minute, his body contemplating what just happened before looking up at Joe, who’s wiping his mouth, taking a gulp from the water bottle.

"Wow," Joe whispers, amazed, echoing John’s thoughts.

"How are you?" John asks him, and Joe grins, cleaning up John with a tissue.

"I’m really good. I’ll get used to the taste too."

John grins back. "You were amazing. C’mere."

Joe nestles against his side, pressing his hard cock to his hip, and John chuckles.

"Okay, point taken. If you give me a minute, I’ll make you feel good again."

"I’m fine," Joe says, pressing a kiss on John’s cheek almost innocently before stretching lusciously. "Of course I won't deny a bit of an indulgence."

John smiles at him as it’s Joe’s turn to stare at the sky with a dazed grin, all satisfied. Joe was always a huge hedonist.

The fire has almost died down and it’s getting cold.

"Hey." John gently strokes him. "I say let’s go to bed."

Joe nods, cradling up their stuff and taking them in the cottage as John thoroughly pours some water on the embers before following him.

 

Joe’s already warming up the bed, only his face is visible between the sheets, grinning at John, and John climbs under the blanket, too.

His thoughts wander as they lie there naked, wander back in time to the times when Joe was little.

They went to an amusement park with his and Joseph’s family, and he and Joe got carried away from the others in the crowd. Joe was grabbing onto John’s jeans, looking at the colorful rides and games with huge, twinkling, doll-like eyes.

"What are you smiling at?" Joe asks, poking him between the ribs, and John twitches before grabbing his hand and gently pulling it to his lips.

"Just remembering one time when you were little and we went to an amusement park. You were around… six? I bought you candyfloss."

Joe smiles at him. "That's cotton candy, right? I faintly remember. I think we went for a ride on the ferris wheel. Was it on Coney Island?"

John grins, holding the boy close with an arm. "Yes. You were just nodding when I asked you if you wanted to go up, you were so excited. I didn’t dare to let you go for a second, so I just held you in my arms and took you up. The others got lost. You were clinging to me as you were staring at the landscape from above."

Joe smiles at him, pressing a kiss on his chest. "It was like flying. I loved it, I felt safe."

John lies back, lost in thought for a while, thinking that maybe Joe does not want to reminiscence, but now Joe starts talking.

"I think I drew you something once, a family picture of all of us. I remember the red and brown colors and some stick figures with horrible red lips. I showed it to you and you told me it was a masterpiece."

John laughs. "Oh, I remember that. You drew yourself, and your parents and siblings, Ronnie and I and all of us."

Joe laughs. "It was complete shit but you exclaimed how great it was."

"Well, you have to tell that to children not to discourage them."

"It was ugly as hell, right?"

"Damn right," John laughs. "But Ronnie still has it somewhere."

"You two always treated me like your own. I went for sleepovers at your place, and you guys dressed me up for bed and read me stories. We made sandwiches together."

"You took the ingredients from the fridge, and you were sad because you couldn’t eat the cheese, but I did bribe you with some salami instead. You were fooling around so much, making everyone laugh. You were such a cute boy."

"And I slept in your bed!"

John is watching Joe, wondering whether he truly understands the weight of what they're doing. He talks about Ronnie like about someone he likes, but-

The question just slips out.

"Do you like Ronnie?"

Joe looks at him with a brow raised.

"Of course I do."

John can't decide whether to be entertained or confused.

"Yet you’re sleeping with her husband."

"Hey! We’re in this together-"

John kisses his face. "Relax, I'm not asking because… I'm just… Never mind. It’s not important, let’s-"

Joe puts his arms under his head.

"No, it’s okay. Of course I like her, but… I like you more. I’ve always been a lot closer to you, and I can't help being attracted to you." A pause, maybe a hint of guilt. "It just… happened. I don’t know how, or when, but suddenly I felt like I had to get my hands on you, and when I suspected you wanted it too, I couldn’t resist. I never meant to hurt her. I don't hate her. I just… like you more."

It’s weird to talk about Ronnie, but Joe doesn’t seem disturbed at all.

There’s silence, both of them lost in thought.

"John… What did you like about Freddie?"

Joe asks the most random questions, like the child he is.

John thinks back about Freddie. The laughs in the studio, the nervousness before the first concerts, their shoulders pressing together, the Scrabble wars, Freddie watching over him when John was upset and was wandering around on set, kicking the amplifiers.

What could he answer to this?

That he loved his looks, his style, his personality, his jokes, his dreams, even though they didn’t match his…?

"Everything."

Joe smiles softly.

"And what do you like about Ronnie?"

Heat flushes John’s face — embarrassment, guilt, love, pity, shame, tenderness…

"That… she’s the complete opposite of Freddie. And still we matched so well. Clicked immediately, it just happened. She was my best friend."

Her intelligence, her dance moves, her wittiness, her love for kids…

Joe leans on one elbow, looking thoughtfully at John.

"And… what do you like about me?"

John scoffs, reaching up and swiping the hair from Joe’s forehead.

"You know that already."

"If I knew, I wouldn’t be asking."

John pulls him close and Joe lays his head on his chest.

"Joe… what can I say to this? I love every fiber of your being. You’re sweet, and funny, and caring and beautiful, and you make me happy-"

His words blend into kisses as Joe captures his mouth, John’s words of affection muffled between their clashing lips.

They’re in another timeline now, in another dimension. All of this feels like a dream, a surreal, perfect little bubble of reality where nothing has consequences.

But John has no illusions. In the end they both will pay a price.

Joe must be sensing it too because he sighs, grabbing John’s hand.

John looks at their twined hands; Joe’s soft, pale hand against his own large, hairy one, the boy's fingers much longer now than they used to be, but still smaller than John’s.

He's still so inexperienced. So innocent. Mostly untouched…

But he has already grown so much. A moment ago he was just a toddler, and now he has blossomed and John can’t believe his eyes. He feels pride for him; for his development, his success, his smartness, his kind heart, and he couldn’t ask for a better godson.

He also feels the possessiveness of desire, creeping at him from the darkest pit of his soul. John used to love him like one of his own, and now he can’t stop lusting after him. Joe’s come a long way, and he’s still going to do amazing things that are ahead of him.

He’s having flashbacks of the past and weird dreams of the future, like glimpses of a parallel universe, all diverse and confusing.

"How are you feeling?" He asks Joe, as if the boy's thoughts would make more sense than his own, and Joe looks at him with such admiration in his eyes he has to blink a few times.

"I still can't believe we just did… it. You, and me, and we're lying here and it's good and…" Joe stops. "And I never want to be anywhere else again."

John doesn't say anything to that. He feels the same, and it's terrifying.

Joe continues. "But it's over, we have to leave soon. The summer is ending, and I'll have to go back to the States, and you have to go back home to your… family."

It hurts.

"You're my family, too."

Joe looks at him, eyes suddenly black. "Don't. You know what I mean."

"I'm sorry." John really is sorry. But what can be done now?

He’s found another home.

Not a better one… just a different one.

This home is in Joe’s eyes.

This home is when he’s holding Joe. This home is the time he spends with him.

Joe is tracing John's lips and jaw with a fingertip, moving along his neck, to his shoulder, along his arm. He reaches his hand, gently drawing circles on his wrist before lifting his hand to his lips. John watches Joe pressing kisses on his knuckles one by one, slowly.

Then Joe looks into his eyes as he slides John's hand across his own chest, his side, over his hips.

He stops there.

"I was wondering what I could give you for your birthday that you don't already have."

John can feel his heart speed up at the heat rising on Joe's cheeks. The boy trembles slightly, but his voice is steady.

"This is our last chance." Joe gently slips John's hand from his hip to his butt, a not so subtle hint, and John feels like the air is thinning in the room suddenly, even with the windows open. "If you want it too, as much as I do…"

John is shivering now as Joe presses up against him from feet to chin, breathing into John's neck, licking his jaw as he murmurs into his ear, words that ignite sparks in his stomach.

"I want you in me, John…" Joe whispers, every word is a pang of lust as he’s rubbing against him slightly, holding him in a possessive embrace, and John clings to him. "Please tell me you want it too, because this is all I can think about…"

_No, don’t tempt me anymore._

"I want to be yours."

Joe’s eyes are glistening and huge in the half light.

He shouldn't. He shouldn't.

The last shards of his willpower are stabbing in his gut, but there’s no use because he's rarely felt a fire more intense that are now flaring up at the boy's words.

"You're already mine."

His instincts seem to have taken over his mind because he finds himself on top of Joe, whose arms and legs are around him, pulling him close, and a soft tongue is deep in his mouth, tapping around, and John is hungrily sucking on it.

"How do you want it?" He asks at one point, stroking Joe’s lips with his thumb when they come up for air.

The boy looks like a fallen angel underneath him, his hair all ruffled and his eyes blackened and his lips swollen, and John has to hold himself back from eating him alive right there and then.

"I don’t know, any way you think is the best," Joe whispers back with such trust in his eyes that John can’t stand it, he has to look away.

"We don’t have… anything," he says, looking around, the last inches of sobriety kicking in. There is no way he’s going to take the boy without protection or proper preparation.

Joe turns bright red. "I might have— brought some stuff with me. Condoms and lube… uh, just in case, you know."

John looks at him, unbelieving, but a grin is slowly spreading across his face. "Wishful thinking?"

Joe rolls his eyes before climbing out from the bed, searching in his backpack. "Please don’t tell me it never once occurred to you because I’ll feel like a creep."

"My smart boy." John smacks his butt playfully. "My smart, horny boy."

"I hope they will fit your… size."

Joe throws the boxes on the bed next to them and climbs over to John to hug him. His whole body is trembling, his ears are still red, but John coos and rocks him, kissing his mouth and his neck and his shoulders.

Joe hangs off him, returning his kisses, murmuring things into his ear about how good it feels to finally touch him as he wants; he takes John’s hand and lifts it to his lips.

"I love your hands, John," he says, caressing them before taking a finger in his mouth playfully, moaning as he’s sucking on it, looking in John's eyes. "I love when your fingers do things to me."

"I know my little boy loves that," John whispers, and Joe closes his eyes as he sucks deliciously, and John is amazed and so turned on by how childish and how sensual Joe can be at the same time.

Joe plays with his hands a little more before he leads them over his body to show John what he likes.

"They are so long, and your hands are so large…" Joe whispers as John gently grabs Joe’s throat with a hand that Joe leads there, Joe’s hand covering his. He lets his hand be led to a nipple, circling it until it gets hard and Joe moans deliciously. John leans down to lick the other nipple, and Joe pulls his head close and pushes his hand lower, and John brushes his fingers through coarse pubic hair.

Such a delicious young man, and all his.

He bites into that nipple gently, but Joe still yelps, his voice turning into a moan as John grabs his hard cock and slowly pumps it, feeling it twitch in his hand.

Joe then takes his hand and nudges it even lower, lying back and spreading his legs, and John takes the hint. He kisses Joe before he opens the lube and pours some of it on his fingers, warming it up.

Then he props on his elbow, lying next to the boy, they lock eyes as John is slowly nudging his thighs further apart.

"It’s probably gonna hurt at least a bit, are you ready for that? You can change your mind at any time," he begins, but Joe already shakes his head.

"I will tell you if something’s wrong, okay? I’ll be fine. I know you’ll watch after me."

John nods, kissing him again as he feels his heart beat faster. He can’t get enough, and Joe passionately kisses him back, stroking his cheek, and John slips his hand over Joe’s hole, circling it ever so gently. He manages to distract him enough with kissing that the tip of his finger can slide in easily.

Joe moans into his mouth, pushing down against his finger. Such a good boy, taking it so well. John purrs to Joe encouragingly, taking his time, kissing him everywhere he can reach until Joe is panting beneath him, his long legs that John admires so much parted as wide as they’d go, and soon his whole finger is buried in Joe’s soft heat.

"Good?" he asks, and Joe nods, whimpering as John crooks his finger and starts to pump it in and out.

"Yeah… strange but good," Joe gasps.

"You tell me you never had a finger up here?" John teases him, and Joe grins with his eyes closed.

"Ah, John… don't ask me about my masturbation habits."

John smiles devilishly, looking for Joe’s prostate and carefully pressing on it when he finds it, and the boy suddenly chokes on air, his back arching like a stretched bow, his cock twitching violently.

"It will feel like this, only more intense," John smiles, and he can feel Joe exhaling and slowly relaxing.

"Holy shit," Joe gasps, eyes wide, and John’s able to add a second finger ever so slowly. Joe then puts his hand on his, signing him to wait a bit, and John waits patiently, listening to Joe’s squeals.

"You’re amazing, baby boy, taking my fingers so fast. You’ll be ready soon, ready for me," John murmurs into his ear, kissing him as he scissors his fingers, feeling him loosening up at his encouraging praises, and Joe moans.

"Can you do it again? That… pressing thing," he asks, and John raises an eyebrow as he smirks. He strokes the boy’s sweet spot again, gently at first and then gradually increasing the pressure-

"Ahh, fuck!" Joe yelps suddenly, and John feels him clench and sees him spurt all over his own chest, gasping and twitching until the waves die down.

Oops.

And wow.

"Fuuuuuuck—" Joe says again after a minute or so, but in a different tone. He sounds annoyed as he covers his face. "Shit, John, I’m sorry— oh my god, this is embarrassing—"

"Shh, it’s okay, it was hot," John chuckles, not daring to remove his fingers but patting the boy’s head with his free hand, observing the crazy amount of cum on his stomach. "It was me, sorry, probably pressed too hard."

"Uh, it felt fucking _amazing_ but, uh-"

"Should I pull out?"

"No, wait," Joe says, slowing down his breathing, tapping for a tissue to wipe himself. "I think I’ll be good for another one, later though. You can still fuck me."

"Sure?" John asks, pumping his fingers a little, and Joe moans, twisting deliciously.

"Yeah. How are we gonna do it?" He asks, his pale skin flushing from chest to ears as John keeps fingering him and caressing him.

"I thought about maybe spooning you. Our hands will be free like that. We can change any time."

"Okay," Joe says, pushing back against John’s hand. "We can do it now I think-"

"Wait just a little more," John shushes, not wanting to rush it.

He stretches him a bit more, seeing that Joe is already half-hard again. Amazing. He still keeps his hand in place; he’s nervous, unlike Joe who’s getting fidgety and moany.

"Jooooohn, I’m ready, how long do you wanna wait-"

"Patience!"

"But John— ah—" Joe moans when John pumps once again, slowly working in a third finger. "Do you want me to beg? I’ll beg, please, pleeease fuck me already, I need it so badly-"

Fuck. The way he begs would make John rock hard if he wasn’t already.

"Oh, my boy." John pulls his fingers out and wipes them on the sheets, not too tastefully but he couldn't care less.

The weight of the situation just kicks in when Joe looks at him with wide eyes as John takes out a condom and rolls it on himself.

Damn, he’s scared, but Joe is twisting onto his stomach, wriggling his butt in invitation, and that's the most adorably hot thing he’s seen in a long while.

"Did I ever tell you how delicious your taut little arse looks like?" He hears himself saying as he grabs Joe's backside and kneads it, and Joe groans.

"Do you like it?"

"Yeah, my goodness… I used to get myself off to the thought of it every single day, you know…"

It’s true, and it’s finally a reality. He mounts Joe, briefly massaging his tense shoulders, kissing along his spine from his nape to his arse, gently biting it before he pours more lube between his buttocks. Seeing that small, soft entrance… damn, he almost chokes at the sight. So soft, so…

_Fuck, fuck, fuck._

So innocent.

There is no turning back from this.

"Are you ready?" he asks, lining them up and teasing the boy just a little bit by stroking his hole with the tip of his cock, listening to Joe trembling and moaning and finally nodding.

John takes a deep breath.

"Relax. Relax, relax," he whispers to Joe and to himself, nipping Joe’s shoulder, and he slowly pushes forward.

He lets out a deep growl, but he can even hear over the loudness of it that Joe cries out. He stops immediately.

"Does it hurt?"

Joe just whimpers, nodding once, and John starts to pull out.

"No, stay," Joe says, reaching back and grabbing John’s waist to keep him in place. "I’ll be fine soon."

"Don’t want to hurt-"

"It’s fine, just- go slowly. I’ll tell you when to stop."

John leans down to kiss him, Joe’s face hot like in a fever. "Okay."

He continues to push in ever so slowly, listening to Joe’s reactions, and he keeps softly kissing Joe’s shoulders. The boy is all whimpery and a little teary, it's so natural, so raw, but he doesn’t tell him to stop. Just a little bit more. Just a bit more… and then John realizes he’s almost completely inside of him.

Joe sighs, holding onto the mattress for dear life.

"Oh, fuck-" John didn’t notice he’s been holding his breath, and now he lets it out with a deep sigh, kissing Joe’s nape. "Fuck."

"Yeah, fuck indeed," Joe says, also letting out the air, relaxing underneath him.

"How is it?"

"Gosh, I’ve never felt so full in my life," Joe chuckles breathlessly, and John smiles too in relief. He stays like this for a while, enjoying Joe’s heated skin, letting him get used to the sensation, kissing him wherever he can reach.

"Let’s turn a little, okay?" He asks then, and when Joe nods, he pulls his hips firmly against his and rolls them to their sides.

Now he can take Joe in his arms, he can touch him properly all over, his legs and hips, his chest, his heated cock. The boy is hard again already, and John is amazed by his appetite.

This position is so intimate, so secure, he can even see Joe’s face if he raises himself. Spooning him is almost parental, and the thought excites and disturbs him at the same time; but Joe reaches back to stroke his hips, encouraging him to move, tangling his legs with John’s.

John has a tight grip on him, he can just rock his hips and slide his cock in and out of him. He soon takes up a slow, undulating rhythm, groaning into Joe’s ear, and Joe groans back, his body hot and silky, and it makes John lose his mind. He gropes the boy all over, kissing into his hair, smelling his wonderful scent as his hands roam over his inner thighs, his hips.

"Ah, fuck, John," Joe moans, arching his back and holding onto John's waist, giving him full control over his body. So sweet, so pure. He reaches up to play with Joe's nipples too, his leg hair tickling against Joe’s smoother legs, and he loves the curve of the boy’s waist and hips, he loves the shape of his arse, unable to take his hands off him as he moves ever so slowly.

"Feeling good?" John purrs into his ear and licks it because he can’t resist the sweet little curve of that earshell, feeling Joe shivering in his arms.

"Fuck, yeah… please keep going," Joe moans, pressing his butt tighter against John’s groin until he’s inside to the hilt, until his chest is all pressed against Joe’s back, until growls are forming deep in John's throat. Joe, small, young Joe. His sweet godson. Finally they have each other like this, closer than ever-

He’s wanted this for way too long, far longer that he dares to admit. It already feels like they’ve been at it forever as John is building up a slow, steady pleasure for both of them, and Joe still doesn't complain, even though every pore of him is sweating and his throat must be dry from all that whimpering.

This is so fucking incredible. John props himself on an elbow so he can take a better look at him, watching his own large, calloused, veiny hand grab Joe’s hard, pink cock, covering almost the whole of it as he pumps it slowly, listening to Joe’s mewls.

Joe looks down, breathing heavily.

"It could be bigger, right?" he asks, sounding a little sad.

"What?" John asks, distracted from his trance. "Your cock?"

"Yeah, it’s not big enough-"

"Silly boy. It’s perfect," John chuckles breathlessly, pressing a kiss on Joe's nape and squeezing his dick, watching a few drops springing from the tip. "My hands are just large, your cock is the perfect size. Besides, you're still young, it will grow. But it's so perfect, just look at this beautiful shape and color…"

John purrs, he knows it makes Joe go crazy. "I was thinking about it the whole vacation. I was thinking how it would feel in my hands, how it would taste in my mouth. Do you even have any idea how much I’ve wanted this, my little fox?"

"Tell me," Joe moans deliciously, his eyes closed, lifting an arm to grab John’s nape. "Tell me that you wanted this as long as I— because I‘ve been thinking about this for so long-"

The boy really is into dirty talking, and John is _so_ going to use this knowledge.

"Yes," he growls in a deep voice, squeezing Joe's cock and speeding up slightly, and the boy moans, "I’ve imagined way too many times how your pretty, young arse would feel around me. Fuck— I've been watching you parade around, imagining how you would look like this, moaning with pleasure in my arms. And I finally have you, I can’t believe you let me do this, that you want me-"

"John," Joe whimpers as John gently strokes his tummy and hips, "it’s so good, I didn't think it would feel this good-"

"You like it, baby boy?" John really needs to slow down, otherwise it will be over soon, but it’s almost impossible, and Joe moans so sweetly… "Did you imagine it to feel like this?"

"Better— it’s even better-"

Both of them are getting louder as John speeds up his thrusts, holding onto the boy’s dick as he begs for more.

Not enough. Never enough-

How he wanted this to happen. How right it feels…

"Wanna see your face," Joe says suddenly, and John immediately pulls out to turn Joe over, gliding into him again, and Joe wraps his legs around his waist.

"You're so flexible, darling," John breathes, chuckling a bit, and Joe grins through a shivery sigh.

"All that stretching in your room… has paid off I guess-"

Joe’s eyes are cloudy and dark, speaking of the pleasure in his body, and John can’t take his eyes off him, he wants to watch him forever but his body rushes toward release and his hips are moving on their own, the sight of his face is too much.

"Baby," John’s panting now, sweat dripping from his face and fire spreading in his loins and he doesn’t want to hold back anymore, he leans down to whisper in Joe’s ear. "Joe, baby— can't hold on, I want to come. I want-"

"Show me," Joe moans, and John speeds up his hips, his hand slips to Joe’s cock to give it all to him, trying to make him come first or at least make him come with him, but it doesn’t work, the wave of pleasure washes over him and he groans as he throws his head back, his hand around the boy’s cock sliding to the bed to hold himself up, burying himself even deeper as he rides out his orgasm.

God, it’s so fucking perfect, coming with this sweet, smart, lovely boy, feeling his gaze on his face, completely exposed, but he has no secrets in front of him. John's panting as he collapses on top of Joe, endorphins surging through his brain.

It finally happened.

He fucked his godson. And he doesn’t regret a single second of it.

He feels fucking proud actually, holding him like a prize. He really is shameless-

"Jooohn," Joe whines, pushing against his hips, and John suddenly remembers that he still has a task to finish. He kisses Joe’s lips as he reaches between them and resumes stroking him, still a bit dazed, murmuring encouragement to him and it’s over soon, Joe grabs his shoulders as he trembles and moans and comes again.

So warm.

So incredible. John can’t stop holding and kissing his boy whose body’s already gone completely limp, but he purrs contentedly as he runs his hands over John's back.

Then John can feel himself softening and he slowly pulls out, throwing the condom aside. Joe winces as John gently spreads his legs and observes his backside for signs of injury or blood, but all seems fine.

"You okay?"

"How do people sit after these things?" Joe grimaces, and John laughs.

"It probably will be a little sore for a while, but by tomorrow it should be fine."

John pats his side and gets up to put on some clothes for the night. He must be quite a sight: his disheveled hair is getting too long already, more white than grey now, and he feels totally fucked out. He puts on his boxers and the t-shirt he brought for the next day, watching Joe sitting on the bed (a little bit one-sided), looking at him with adoration, biting his lip.

"What?" John smiles, and an answering grin spreads over Joe’s lips.

"You look so hot, papi!"

 _"‘Papi’?"_ John laughs before throwing a pillow in his face, and Joe grins.

"I want to fuck you too at least once," he says, turning a bit red but looking at him cheekily.

John chuckles. "Nice try, _son,_ but you wouldn’t last five minutes."

"But I can come twice! Or more!"

"Well, you can't cross an abyss with two jumps, can you?"

Joe pouts, but laughs in the end. "We’ll see."

John smiles at him, pulling him is his arms and gently massaging Joe’s scalp until the boy begins to purr. "We’ll see."

He dozes off after a while, only to wake up to Joe poking him in the ribs.

"John… why do you have so many kids?"

"What?" John doesn't even open his eyes. "That’s random. But it’s because I like children. Go to sleep, kid."

Joe stays quiet as he lies next to him, but apparently his post-coital mind is racing.

"What’s your opinion on aliens? Why haven't they contacted us yet?"

"What?"

"Do you think we’re living in a simulation?"

John pries one eye open at that, and Joe grins at him. Cheeky boy, just messing with him.

John chuckles and kisses him, draping an arm over his belly as he nestles close.

"Go to sleep, love."

Joe stiffens.

"You… wha-?"

"What?" John’s half-asleep mind is too slow.

"Going to sleep after you called me ‘love’?"

Joe suddenly kisses him very intensely, and John absentmindedly kisses him back as he immediately wakes up, stunned by his own word that makes his mind race.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Poor Ronnie. I'm pretty sure she's the most amazing wife ever but I can't help but make her a bit villainy! Did you like this chapter? Where do you think this is all heading?  
> Thanks for reading, and please don't be shy to comment, I answer all. 💕


	9. Stars Of The Night, Darkening Sky

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Joe and John are sinking deeper and deeper into each other's souls, and the storm is gathering, coming from the inside.

Sleeping in a bed with someone new is so intimate, John’s already forgotten that. 

You can learn many things about them by the way they sleep. He never would have guessed how bad of a sleeper Joe is; he always imagined he gets exhausted by all the silly shenanigans he does all day. But no, apparently he has way too much pent-up energy even in his sleep. 

John is leaning on an elbow, his eyes gorging up Joe’s face.

He’s breathtaking.

John thinks back at how Joe loves to prank him or tickle him or just cuddle against him, how he loves to be all over John and climb into his neck, or let John lift him up or tickle him back. 

How he gesticulates when he enthusiastically explains something. How his smile can make flowers grow.

Joe's calm now, but only for a while.

It’s late, and John’s watching Joe sleeping in the moonlight, plump lips parted, eyes moving behind his closed eyelids as he dreams, and John can’t resist touching his hair. It’s smooth, smooth and silky and colorful.

He could stare at him for hours.

He inhales his scent and pulls him close, and Joe murmurs in his sleep and snuggles against him, and John buries his face in his hair, breathing him in.

He knows he’s probably disturbing Joe's dream, but he just can't resist tracing the bones with a fingertip, and the muscles, the hair on Joe's thighs, the sharp angle of his hip bone peeking out of the boxers...

John remembers how he used to read him bedtime stories when they hung out with the two families, more than a decade ago. Joe would sit between John's legs with his godfather's arms tightly wrapped around him, and he would fall asleep to the sound of his voice. John would carry him to the bed from the couch then and tuck him in.

He hugs him even tighter, this beautiful young man that Joe’s becoming.

Joe, who understands. He brings him freedom that he hasn’t felt since... Freddie. 

But Joe is not a Freddie substitute. Joe is his own person, a beautiful person, who accepts John fully.

He watches the moonlight painting Joe's hair a different color, reminding him of the color of berries.

Nighttime Joe with his pale skin is almost a separate being from the sun-fox he is in the daylight. He's calm for the moment, calm and silver and violet.

John knows he's got it bad. He can try to deny it, but there’s no mistaking his condition. He’s felt like this enough times before not to recognize it.

Joe twitches and starts fidgeting again, tossing and turning. He grunts and hogs the covers off John, pulling them around himself for the third time. John curses under his breath. Not again. 

He just gives up at this point and slips out of the bed to put on his trousers and his jumper.

He steps outside to the terrace and lights a cigarette, inhaling deeply while staring at the sky. The sky is the same as a few weeks ago, but so much has changed. 

Joe wasn’t his yet. 

But now he’s taken him, and he doesn’t know what will happen now. They will probably go on with their lives after this summer like nothing happened. At least that's what he hopes for, but is it really possible?

Is it really what he wants?

The stars are silent, they provide no answers.

He takes another puff. Damn, this feels good. He really felt like smoking after sex, but didn’t want to do it near Joe. He still remembers Freddie’s scolding when he took up smoking, rebuking him in his worried big brother voice. 

Freddie.

_I wish I could talk to you now._

He hears the door opening, and Joe steps next to him, wrapped in the blanket, and before John can react, Joe gently takes the cigarette out of his mouth, stubbing it out and putting it aside. 

His hands reach up to cup John’s face, softly scratching his stubble. 

"Please— don’t. It's bad for you."

John's heart skips a beat and a shiver runs down his back, but he’s not quite sure why. Probably the chilly night. He takes Joe’s hand, squeezing it before twining their fingers, Joe’s smooth, pale skin against his wrinklier, hairy one.

_Did you make a pact with an angel to guide this boy to me?_

"Don’t ever take up smoking, kid."

"Why did _you_ take it up then?"

John thinks about it.

It must have been in the mid-eighties, a really dark phase when smoking was the least horrible habit he picked up. 

When something snapped in him.

_The cocaine filled nights of afterparties instead of the loneliness of foreign hotel rooms. The taste of booze he couldn’t go a night without. Being away from his kids. Ronnie's constant shouting through the phone. Freddie pulling him aside, telling him that he wanted him to be the first one to know. His bass flying across the stage. Burying himself in random bodies, fuelled by the anger of helplessness and adrenaline. That long-haired, shy, smiley kid he used to be slowly turning into something else, something dark. The glistening, sweaty skin, his wrist caught in a sudden grip, and a lingering, salty, apologetic last kiss under the tickle of a funny moustache while the audience is screaming outside—_

"I don’t remember."

Joe’s skin is pale in the moonlight, his eyes deep and clear. A guardian angel in disguise.

"Taste me instead."

His whisper is tender and caring in the night as he leans towards John, gently stroking his jaw and slowly kissing his smoky lips, and John's heart starts beating faster. He holds Joe and softly kisses him back, sliding both of his arms around the boy’s shoulders, taking him in a tight, protective, engulfing embrace. 

Joe feels so small in his arms, his kiss is electrifying even though this one is soft and without lust; this one is caring and comforting, speaking of promises that can’t be kept, a future that cannot be.

They part with a sigh, John looking into his godson’s eyes, searching for the answers he can’t find in the sky. 

There's melancholy in his own voice and he presses a kiss on his boy's forehead.

"You're no less addictive." 

Joe smiles sadly, turning towards the landscape and leaning on the railing, so close that their hips are pressed together. His body heat radiates through the rough blanket before the boy lifts it up and drapes it over both of them. 

The wind is chilly as it caresses their hair, Joe’s dark locks against John’s grey ones. 

Joe then pulls John down to sit on the bench, and they’re holding onto each other for a long time, John's hand on his boy's shoulder, Joe's arm around John's waist.

He wonders whether Joe fully understands what he's gotten into. He’s not a regular kid; he’s seen so much and met so many, but still he’s inexperienced, still pure of all the hate and craziness of the world. John loves it and dreads it all, and he can’t blame Joe; he doesn’t quite understand what they have either. 

He closes his eyes, thinking of his wife’s face, her smile, her white dress blowing in the wind, her hair getting ruffled as she swipes it from her face.

_Ronnie…_

He hugs Joe tighter and buries his face in his hair that smells like youth and devotion.

_I’m sorry._

Joe is soon going slack against him, probably on the verge of falling asleep.

"Hey, Joe." John gently pulls him closer. "Go back to bed."

Joe murmurs something and leans on his shoulder, unlikely that he’ll move anytime soon. 

Kids. They can fall asleep at such an amazing speed. John remembers what it's like… It’s been only a few weeks, but feels like a lifetime since he was able to properly sleep. He envies him.

His fatherly instincts are kicking in.

_I've still got this._

He picks Joe up in his arms to carry him to bed. Damn, the boy is heavy. Lucky that they had their share of exercise in the past weeks, but John is still groaning as he kicks in the door, Joe laying his head on his chest. 

His back hurts, and he laughs at himself, though a bit bitter and out of breath. Aging is a bitch.

He puts Joe in bed and climbs in next to him, tucking the boy in properly before draping an arm around him. Joe murmurs what sounds like John’s name before passing out again.

John is drifting off too.

He's entering a white fog, deeper and deeper, searching, searching, until he finds Joe, an older, adult Joe standing there, his shoulders wide and his hair is bright, his posture mature and confident.

The young man’s green eyes are glistening in the clearing fog as he steps towards John, proudly showing him a little bundle in his arms.

"Look, John!" Joe's smile is twinkling, his voice is deep and teary. "We’ve made it, we got chosen, she’s ours finally! Isn’t our daughter beautiful?"

John falls asleep, smiling and so very sad.

 

He wakes up to something very prominent poking his thigh, and he doesn't even need to open his eyes to recognize what that is. 

He's on his stomach and Joe is lying half on top of him, still asleep, judging by the sound of his soft snores.

Damn, John feels hot. Joe probably woke up at some point and realized he's hogged the blanket _again_ and wrapped it around them both. Now he’s sweating.

But it’s too domestic and he doesn’t want to move.

They lie like this for another solid half an hour with John listening to Joe's snoozing, half-asleep.

Then his hips begin to hurt under Joe's weight.

Joe probably senses that John is about to get up because he wakes up, rolling off him slowly. He pulls John back to bed when he attempts to sit up and hugs him tightly, not letting him go, eyes still closed.

John strokes his head. 

"Sweetheart, I really need to pee," he whispers, but Joe just murmurs "shut up and cuddle me" while hanging off his arm like a leech.

John chuckles.

"We have to leave soon anyway."

"Nooo, don't wanna!" Joe’s totally whining now, and John rolls his eyes and laughs at the same time.

"You’re being a baby!"

"I am! I am your baby," Joe murmurs sleepily, and John sighs. His bladder is protesting but he lays back for a short time, enjoying the feel of Joe's hand slipping under his jumper to stroke his skin. 

Joe loves to play with his chest hair, just lazily comb his fingers through it, and this time is not different.

"Soft," Joe whispers, still half-asleep but smiling against John's side, his fingertips caressing one of John’s nipples. It’s pleasant, and John closes his eyes, enjoying Joe’s wandering hand.

It wanders lower, onto his stomach, dipping into his navel, tracing hip bones under the hem of John’s trousers before moving south-

"Ow!" John yelps as Joe accidentally presses on his bladder, and Joe is startled, lifting his head, his bed hair sticking in every direction. "Okay, I really need to leave for a sec," John says to Joe’s sleepy face. 

"Sorry," the boy murmurs, closing his eyes again, and John sprints into the forest.

Ah. There’s nothing like peeing in nature. He stays outside on the terrace for a while after he's finished, just breathing in the morning air of the mountains, enjoying the landscape in front of his eyes. 

Joe. Lovely little Joe.

He smiles tenderly at the mere thought of his godson in his arms. He misses him already.

He hurries back to bed where Joe is lying there half-snoozing, but opens an eye when John enters, lifting the blanket up so John can climb under.

Joe’s naked underneath, and he grins at John, a sleepy, seductive grin.

How can he be hot even with bed hair and swollen eyes? Not that it’s anything too bad. John giggles as Joe cuddles against him, and he gets the sudden urge to feel his smooth, warm skin. He strips, too, kicking his clothes out from under the covers, and Joe curls around him like a serpent. His skin is hot and silky, and John just moans deliciously.

They lie there for a long time, just rubbing gently against each other, slipping in and out of snoozing, Joe pressing gentle kisses on John’s shoulder, nipping his neck, John lazily stroking Joe’s back and waist and butt.

Delicious. Relaxing. Satisfying.

Joe’s kisses are gradually becoming a little bit more open-mouthed, his tongue circling gently on John’s skin, and John hears and feels his breathing becoming deeper, as well as his own. 

He growls softly and wraps his arms tighter around the boy, and Joe props himself on an elbow so they can kiss, and they chuckle because they both have a bit of morning breath but it doesn't matter.

Joe breaks the kiss, apparently keen on exploring all of John’s erogenous zones he's skipped so far. He’s planting small kisses behind John's ear, tugging gently on his earlobe, licking under his jaw and towards his nape, making him shiver.

John enjoys it with his eyes closed as Joe presses kisses on his cheeks and eyelids and chin and neck, moving along his collarbones; and suddenly he moves to straddle John, admiringly rubbing his hands over his chest. They smile at each other, John playing with the red hair as Joe leans down to kiss a nipple, circling the other with a finger. John moans, rubbing his dick against Joe’s pert ass, and Joe grins against his skin, pressing back at him slightly.

It’s so very intimate and sensual to be discovered by his little godson like this, silently communicating through moans and hums and nudges. John strokes Joe’s back, touching the moles and the muscles and the shoulder blades as Joe kisses him lower now, following the trail from John’s chest to his groin.

Joe dips his tongue into John's navel and bites him gently just underneath it, and John groans like he's been thunderstruck, his back arching. 

"Oh," Joe says, surprised that he's found a tender spot, carefully biting him there again, and John's whole body twitches in pleasure, he's almost forgotten that it’s so sensitive there… 

"Keep doing that," John moans, tangling his fingers in smooth hair, and Joe grins as he obeys, rutting his hard-on against John's leg, slowly and teasingly nipping and licking and biting that area until John's cock is dripping in Joe’s slender hand. 

Joe sucks on a finger before taking John’s dick in his mouth, his hand slipping lower to massage his balls…

Gentle tugging, hot, wet suction, and John closes his eyes and moans in joy. Joe’s really getting into this. There’s a tentative finger probing under his balls, and he gasps and smiles, a blissed out, dizzy smile, sinking comfortably into the pillow as he spreads his legs wide, giving Joe’s sneaky little finger better access.

"Okay?" Joe asks unsurely, and John responds by lifting his hips and spreading his thighs even more, he hasn’t been touched there for ages and oh, does it feel amazing…

It's getting hot so Joe throws the covers off, his mouth warm and wet on John’s cock again. John is panting and grinning and enjoying the caress and the soft pressure, Joe's finger slowly, carefully slipping into him.

"God, yes," he moans, and there's a hum of amazement around his dick, and the boy's mouth is slowing down in concentration, his finger carefully pumping in and out. "Yes, like that…"

Joe gets bolder with John’s encouragement. He twists his finger and curls it, looking for that spot that made him lose his mind when John did it to him. 

"Here?" He whispers, pressing a kiss on John's cock.

"A bit deeper… on the front side,'' John gasps, helping him, and Joe moans, his saliva dripping down John’s shaft as he's searching-

And there it is. John cries out, it's been so long and it feels so amazing and he's missed being filled up like this, and there's another and another wave of pleasure, and if Joe keeps this up he's gonna come again, but what a way it would be to let go-

"John," Joe whispers, stilling his finger, and John looks at him, panting and questioning. Joe blinks at him with huge, blackened eyes, biting his lip, his chest heaving, his cock flushed and hard between his thighs. "Can I-?"

"What is it, sweetheart?" John asks, high on pleasure and love, perfectly knowing what Joe wants but he wants him to say it out loud, he wants to feel wanted.

Joe turns bright red, his voice is just a whisper. "Can I, uh— would you let me fuck you…? I might not be good but I'd really love to-"

John smiles, taking him in his arms, and Joe grins when he whispers "yes, anything you want”.

Joe presses a very thankful, very firm kiss on John's lips before he slips to the side of the bed and taps on the floor for the box of condoms, and John can't let him go, he hugs him from behind, and Joe giggles as John's hard-on is poking his thigh.

John reaches for the lube while Joe tries to open the condom wrapper, and Joe stops mid-movement with his mouth hanging open as he catches the sight of John lubing himself up. 

John grins at him, a little bit embarrassed; he can imagine what he must look like with a finger slowly pressing into himself, but Joe swallows, his eyes going black. He must be liking it.

It's been a while since John has done this except sometimes during masturbating when he’s missed the feeling, and it’s so good. He moans and throws his head back as he fingers himself, putting on a little show for Joe who blinks a few times, whispering "wow" before exhaling loudly.

When John's ready, Joe goes back to trying to put the condom on himself, but he doesn't have the routine, and he curses, his hands fidgeting nervously.

"C’mere," John smiles, grabbing the condom and helping Joe, and the boy groans, frustration and lust and tenderness in his eyes as he watches John roll it on him.

"Nice teamwork," Joe says, and John grins as he kisses the boy, then laying down and tucking a pillow under his hips.

"Don’t you need… my fingers first?" Joe whispers, quickly pecking John’s mouth, but John smiles at him and gestures him closer with a finger.

"I’m good. Just go slowly. It’s been a while…"

Joe nods, nervously biting his lips before climbing over John, stealing another small kiss. He angles himself a bit awkwardly, hesitating for a second, but John wraps his legs around him. 

"Come," he breathes, gasping as Joe enters him, maybe a little hastily but the pressure is good and the bit of stinging pain only heightens his senses, and he groans shamelessly together with Joe as the boy, his own little godson, fills him up, completely and thoroughly-

"John, John, oh god," Joe whimpers, his breath hot and damp on John's neck, his hands are everywhere as he tries to hold himself up and touch John at the same time. 

Joe’s skin is so incredibly soft under John's sweating palms, his moaning is from another world, another dimension, and John pulls him even deeper-

The boy is shy to move at first, but John whispers encouragingly to him, not even knowing what. Joe begins to thrust, beginning to build up the pleasure slowly, and the tightness and heat are almost unbearable, but so good, it almost feels like fusing together… John lets out a sigh and closes his eyes, plunging backwards into the softness of desire.

He trusts Joe. Joe will take good care of him...

"Is it— good?" Joe moans in his ear, and John grunts in answer.

"Yes, you're so good-" he grins dizzily, praising the boy, kissing his face and kneading his butt, "you're so warm, and heavy, and thick-" 

Joe snorts, but he leans down to kiss John’s neck, moaning softly. It’s so hot, so intimate to have Joe inside him, the friction is so incredibly arousing, John hasn't felt like this in ages, and he has flashbacks of his first time… This time is maybe even better, and he lets go, he holds onto Joe’s waist that feels like the slender arch of an hourglass, the sand of life counting the time behind it-

He feels Joe’s mouth on his as the boy grunts and moans to him, his name flying from those soft lips like leaves from the trees in autumn. Those lips are the petals of spring, he’s the summer breeze as he's bathing John’s skin with panting kisses, his body pressing into John's, his rhythm faltering in pleasure, but John guides him. 

''A little slower, love," he whispers to make it last, and Joe moans louder as he obeys, and John’s pushing himself against him, surging together with him, making love to his godson…

His lover. His savior.

Slow, deep undulating like the waves of an ocean, rocking him, taking him higher, making him arch, his moan echoed by a growl. John opens his eyes to see Joe staring at him, enchanted and mesmerized, and John dizzily smiles back at him as he pulls him close until their foreheads touch, lips parting around gasping breaths, eyes locking.

"Is it— good for you too?" John manages to form a coherent question, but Joe also has trouble with words.

"Yeah, it’s… I’ve never felt like this, I can’t even-"

He kisses John’s mouth as he angles his thrusts, getting faster now, and John takes himself in hand and strokes and groans, his other hand grabbing Joe’s waist; and Joe belatedly reaches for John’s cock, he’s probably forgotten about it in his lust, but John gently pushes his hand away.

"I'm doing it, don’t worry, you just-" he grins through a wave of pleasure, "just fuck me-"

Joe growls and thrusts harder, laying his sweaty face on John’s chest and awkwardly kissing his skin, he’s gotten into the rhythm and this time John doesn't tell him to slow down, it's oh so good, getting filled and getting fucked, he's forgotten how good it is, he faintly hears himself moaning incoherently as Joe's chanting _goddad, goddad_ in his ear, and John’s almost, almost, _almost_ there-

And then everything is tightening and heating up, and he glances up at Joe for a second, at the concentration on his face before his eyes are closing and his muscles are clenching, and he gasps and comes, it seems to last forever as his climax is stretched across time, and he holds onto the boy, taking him with himself, and Joe's collapsing on top of him, his groans and cries muffled by John’s chest-

John lies there completely undone, just staring at the ceiling and listening to Joe’s slow panting, stroking his back as they come down. 

He lifts the boy’s chin up.

"Thank you," he whispers, his voice a little weak, and Joe smiles, dazed and proud and happy.

They keep staring into each other’s eyes, breathing in each other’s breath, dizzying and intimate like sharing souls.

“Your eyes are different colors,” Joe murmurs in wonder, caressing John’s cheekbone before leaning down to gently kiss away a teardrop; and John suddenly laughs out loud, free and unrestricted, hugging him.

"John?" Joe asks, looking at him questioningly, curiously, and John pulls his head close to his.

"Damn, I'm so… I'm so bisexual," he giggles and laughs like he were high, and maybe indeed he is.

Joe grins, showing all of his teeth as he presses his forehead against John's.

"Very nice, goddad. Just like Bowie. Welcome outside."

 

John’s packing their stuff, preparing for heading back.

God, he hates even the thought of it. 

He notices the ring at the bottom of his backpack that he put there before the hike, and he suddenly remembers everything he left behind for a night. His family. His kids… 

He stares at the gold, stroking it slowly. Mustn’t lose it. 

He puts it on absentmindedly, automatically.

Old habits are hard to break. It feels almost normal to have something on his finger again.

He’s standing on the balcony. They had their breakfast and one last swim in the lake earlier, cleaning themselves in the fresh and chilly water and the morning light, playing and laughing, trying to push each other down under; but now he’s staring at the mountains, waiting for Joe to finish his outhouse break.

He hears Joe’s footsteps, and young arms are wrapping around him from behind, and John puts his hands over Joe’s smooth, long-fingered ones. 

Joe smells like toothpaste and the lake.

They enjoy the moment.

"Thanks for everything," Joe whispers into his ear, the soft skin of his cheek scratching against John's five o'clock shadow, and John squeezes his wrist as he's blushing slightly.

"I thank _you._ I’m… honoured."

That is true. There are so many things he’s feeling about the whole thing, with a part of it being the burning shame, but he’s equally proud of himself. And there are other things underneath it… Scary things. He doesn’t dare to sort them out, not yet. They still have a little time.

But apparently, it doesn’t work like that.

Joe’s fingertip is circling his ring, almost tenderly.

"John?"

"Hmm?"

"Can you take this off?"

"What?" He’s confused for a second, his mind elsewhere.

"This. Why did you put it on again?" Joe tugs on his ring.

John stiffens, his hand that’s been caressing Joe’s stops. "So I won’t forget it here."

"I don’t like it. Take it off."

John is tensing. 

No. That is her present. A part of him. His past, his life, his partner. The home he must return to.

And most importantly, the key to his children-

"No."

"No?" Joe asks, letting him go, and John turns towards him, seeing his eyes narrowing. Apparently he’s not pleased with the answer.

"No." They stare at each other in tense silence. "Why is it that important? I’ve spent two days with you, and now we’re going back-"

Joe huffs and looks at the sky. "You know why, stop being an idiot-"

"Watch your mouth, kid," John says warningly. 

"That’s not what you said last night-"

John doesn’t take any of that. He passes Joe and enters the cottage. "I don’t want to forget it here or… lose it or…"

"I can remind you when we're back-"

No. 

He has to go back. To his previous life, to his-

No…

He shakes his head. "Joe… I’m not taking it off."

"Why not? It doesn’t mean anything anymore!" Joe is coming after him, voice raised.

"What the hell are you talking about?" John stops and turns. "Of course it does!"

"Well, I hate it!" Joe shouts, eyes burning. "I hate seeing it on you and being reminded every time that you’ll never be mine-"

John’s heart almost stops as he looks at the kid, but he can’t stand what’s in his eyes as Joe's voice breaks.

"I thought I meant something to you, I thought we had something!"

The devastation clenches John’s stomach, and the sudden pain of it jabs into him so forcefully it makes him furious.

"We had what?" His voice is dry and hoarse. "What exactly were you expecting from me, Joe, huh? You know, this is not some romantic movie where we marry and have babies together!"

Joe stares at him like he’s only really seeing him for the first time.

John stares at Joe, too, a terrible suspicion tightening his throat. "You weren’t really expecting me to just… give up everything I have for you, were you? To… divorce or something?"

"I— I—" Joe’s voice is getting thin, his face going from scarlet to pale as a ghost, staring at John like he just got punched in the stomach. John can practically hear his heart breaking, but at the same time his anger flares up and he doesn’t know whether he’s mad at Joe or mad at himself. 

At his own insane desires and dreams, mirroring Joe's.

_What the hell were you imagining, old man?_

Dreams and hopes of a miracle. 

_As if someone like Joe would ever stay with you._

But miracles don’t happen on this Earth.

_He doesn’t know what he feels. He's going to grow up, and after the summer he's going to forget you anyway-_

He doesn’t think anymore, and Joe’s pale face is just too much-

"Well, sorry to disappoint you, but you knew what came with the package when you decided to be a married man’s plaything-"

He stops, realizing what he's just said as Joe looks at him with his cheeks turning crimson again, eyes narrowing and his lips pulling back, the whiteness of his teeth so blinding. 

"I'm not a plaything," Joe growls, voice suddenly rough and deep. John doesn't think he's ever seen him this angry before. "Or am I?"

John swallows, getting alarmed. He's fucked up badly.

"No. I didn't mean it-"

He tries to put his hand on Joe's shoulder, but the boy smacks it away and steps closer to him, suddenly looking much bigger and older than he is. 

"Is that what I am to you, _goddad?_ A boy toy?"

"You know you're not. I'm sorry, I shouldn’t have said that."

"You thought this is some kind of game for me to pass time?" Joe barks, his gaze is piercing and sharp. "You thought I'm just fucking around ‘cause I don't have a chance to fuck others? Better and younger ones? ‘Cause I sure as hell have people around me, wanting to get a piece of this ass!"

Going straight for the throat.

"Then why the hell are you fucking with me?" John's voice is rising as well as he too steps closer, and Joe lifts his head up, not stepping back, not frightened at all. "If you were a toy, do you think I'd ever moralize over giving in to your desires? That I wouldn't have fucked you senseless the first night you offered yourself to me? Do you think I'd spend time with you, teach you, bond with you?"

"Then why haven't you called it off yet?" Joe growls, eyes narrow and shining with angry tears. "If it was so morally hard for you, why didn't you just straight up ignore my ass like you did last time you left me for years? Why didn’t you find an excuse to leave, or go to my dad and tell him I'm molesting you?"

"Jesus! What are you talking about? It was impossible to ignore you, and he would never have believed me-"

"That's not why," Joe hisses, dark and hurt eyes staring at John, body shaking. "You _wanted_ to stay near me. You _like_ touching me, don't act all helpless and shit! You love it when I come at you, you love to have me wrapped around your finger because it strokes your ego, but you won't even take off that fucking ring for me that she's paying for your body with, you're just _using_ me-"

Paying for his body?

There’s a red fog coming down on John, and he punches the wall with a fist.

"Watch your mouth, your little shit! I have much more to lose than you!" His face is hot, he knows he shouldn't lose his temper but he can't help it, it's been too long of a summer and too much of Joe and too much confusion, his soul's sweating out tar, he feels nauseous- "You have no idea how serious things could get, you have no idea how much I could lose, and you think I'm just _using_ you to get off? That you’re just a hole for my pride? You say I'm a whore? Fuck you, kid, if you really think that then just go to your father and tell him everything so I’ll never have to see your face again-"

Suddenly Joe comes at him and shoves his chest so John stumbles backwards, and Joe punches his shoulder with a fist, but John grabs his wrists and throws him on the bed and lays on top of him. Joe bares his teeth at him, struggling and trying to throw him off but John presses him down with all of his body weight, pinning his hands onto the mattress.

"Calm down, boy, the fuck’s wrong with you, calm the hell down already-" he hears himself panting, but his words are cut off as Joe lifts his head and kisses him roughly, lips smashing against John's, and he feels teeth and pain, the arousal burns red as Joe is rubbing against him, hot and hard and violent, pulling John’s lips with teeth in anger, and John is still yet amazed by his strength and appetite.

"Fuck you, you think I'm a snitch?" Joe spits out between bruising kisses, his eyes still dark, and John releases his hands so he can hold himself up as he returns the kisses and thrusts against Joe’s hips.

Joe’s fingernails are tearing his skin but it’s all right, the sting of pain is pounding in his brain and makes him let go; and Joe’s _‘fuck you’_ s are turning into moans, he’s so young but not anymore, he smells like prey and a predator, fighting and struggling as John bites back, still careful yet not to mark him. 

But Joe doesn’t give a damn about injuries, he’s grabbing John so hard he leaves bruises for sure and he will have to hide them from his wife, but it doesn’t matter because it’s Joe, and Joe cares about him enough to get angry, and Joe is going to ruin his life, he’s going to ruin everything and John will have to live a lie for the rest of his life if there will be any life left-

But it all doesn’t matter because Joe is yanking off John’s jumper and he lets him, he lets Joe touch him and hurt him even as he groans in pain at the fingernails dragged along his sides. "It hurts," he gasps out and Joe immediately pulls back his claws, and John tears the shirt off Joe’s body who’s arching for him, his hands are grabbing the hem of the boy's shorts, freeing his hard and flushed dick, and Joe tucks John’s trousers down and grasps his ass hard-

They’re naked and sweaty and hot, Joe’s legs wrapped around him, he’s hitting John’s shoulders and holding him close at the same time, moaning curses and _‘I want you’_ s into his mouth, and John hears himself growling dangerously as he’s licking the boy’s neck, barely able to hold back from marking him, he takes their cocks in his hand and strokes, watching Joe’s eyes squeeze shut in pleasure-

This boy here, dangerous and destructive, this boy is the reason that John’s whole fucking life is going down in flames…

He dives deep, deep into the consuming wildfire, handing himself over to it, not minding the burns on his skin and the suffocating smoke-

"You still wanna act crazy?" John growls when he’s gotten bored of the stroking, a dark sneer on his lips. "Or do you need a lesson they don’t teach you in acting school?"

Joe nods, "teach me," he says with the ugliest grin ever, and John kneels over the boy's chest and looks straight into his dark, teary eyes as he yanks off his ring and throws it across the room, like he took off his original wedding ring long ago, together with the one he got from Freddie-

Joe's eyes widen and his lips part in astonishment, but John tugs on his head and Joe eagerly opens his mouth, and John is watching his ginger hair flow between his fingers; and that boy, that hungry little demon moans as his beautiful glistening sinful reddened plump lips are wrapping around John’s cock, he grabs John’s hips and pulls him deeper, and John just watches him sliding up and down on his length for a few hypnotizing minutes-

Joe then pulls away, his chin dripping with saliva and John’s precum, tonguing the head of his cock for a few seconds more as he looks into his eyes, his fingernails digging into John's thighs, and John has to squeeze himself not to come in that moment just from the sight.

"Is that all you got, you filthy old man?" Joe snickers even as he’s gasping for air, and John grins.

"Oh, you want to be manhandled, baby boy?" He asks, pulling Joe close and kissing him roughly, and Joe is already stroking his face, almost too lovingly, but John is having none of that tenderness right now. 

It finally happened. 

He's finally gone mad.

He grins at this twistedly liberating thought.

"Open up," he commands, and when Joe obeys, John leans above him, grabbing the boy's jaw and letting a thick string of saliva flow from his mouth into Joe’s; and Joe whimpers in surprise and arousal, sticking his tongue out to catch all of John’s spit before he takes it in and swallows, his eyes closing.

It’s so fucking dirty that John sees red.

"My, you’re disgusting," Joe grins up at him, panting.

"That's what you're into, aren't you, _son?_ Not some teenage vanilla shit," John grins back, and Joe gasps as John roughly releases his jaw.

Finally. Letting everything go. 

He gets onto his knees and takes the boy’s cock in his mouth before Joe can react, staring up at him, deep into his green eyes; and Joe covers his mouth with a hand as he looks back, his cheeks flushed, and John groans as he sucks, drinking the boy's strong, unique and so very addictive taste; and Joe gives in to it for a little while, thrusting into John's mouth, his cock hitting the back of John's throat and he gags a little but it's all right-

Joe then pushes his head away, not giving up control that easily. 

"Turn around," he barks, trying to flip John over, and when John obeys, Joe grabs his arse and buries his face in it without warning, his tongue finding and licking John's hole unexpectedly and without any restrictions, sloppy and messy and loud until John cries out, sparks flying along his spine. Joe slurps at him and spreads him apart and plunges into him, moaning like a whore, or is it John who’s doing that? There’s wetness flowing down John's balls, and he arches his back and grabs the sheets and grunts as Joe's tongue is lapping him violently-

"I want to fuck," Joe growls then, and John thinks maybe Joe wants to take him again and he'd let him do it without hesitation and without batting an eye-

But no.

He turns to watch as Joe lays back and spreads his long, long legs and sucks on his finger; and John can’t help but stare at him, eyes fixed on Joe's dick and his hand that’s now reaching for himself, cupping his balls for a second before sliding lower, dipping a fingertip into himself.

"Take me again, goddad," Joe moans with his head thrown back, and John can’t handle the lust anymore, he just grabs Joe by his knees and yanks him into his lap.

"Oh, you want to get fucked?" he growls from the pit of his stomach, his restraints and inhibitions and morals thrown out the window long ago. "‘Cause I will fuck you into this fucking mattress, sweetheart, you’re gonna get ruined-"

Joe whines as John grabs his thighs and puts them over his shoulders, pulling him against his face like his weight was nothing, he starts eating him out, eagerly and sloppily licking that sweet little hole, leaving Joe yelping and squealing for more. 

God, virgins are so easy to please.

John has chills down his spine when he suddenly remembers that Joe is not a virgin anymore. He’s not a virgin anymore, and John’s the cause of it. The thought thrills him and excites him like nothing in his life, ever, and his cock throbs violently as Joe’s taste is spreading on his tongue.

Joe is incoherently begging him, and John puts him down and roughly spreads those slender legs, reaching for the lube and pouring almost half of the bottle on his fingers before pushing them deep inside Joe’s body, one by one, going straight for _that_ spot, enjoying the sight of the boy twisting on the bed, panting with harsh, deep breaths.

"Tell me immediately if it hurts-"

"I can’t last, fuck— fuck me already!" Joe whimpers, and John rubs his fingers against his sweet spot one more time before pulling out and kneeling between his legs, tearing the wrapper with his teeth and rolling on a condom which is not easy with lube dripping from his hand. 

He lines them up and grabs Joe’s hips.

"Okay?"

Joe nods, his eyes squeezed shut before he covers his face with the back of a hand.

It’s much easier to enter him than the first time, and Joe’s so incredibly hot and soft and silky, his groan is like an aphrodisiac, and John throws his head back, fingers digging into Joe’s flesh.

"Bloody hell— you’re gonna be the death of me, you— goddamn brat," he growls as he’s pushing in all the way, and Joe’s whines and whimpers are music to his ears, he welcomes the small red bites of fingernails on his skin.

_Goodness…_

"You okay?" He asks when he’s finally sheathed fully in Joe's trembling body, grinding his teeth in an attempt to hold back.

"Screw me hard," Joe gasps out, straining and panting under him, finally looking up at John, and hearing that from his boy’s mouth is like heroin in his system.

John finds himself completely letting go at Joe’s permission, keeping eye contact even as he begins to slam into him with full force, leaning on his fists and towering over him and putting all his body weight into the thrusts; and Joe groans and holds onto whatever he can reach, mostly John's neck and shoulder.

It’s nothing but sweaty, dirty pounding and hair pulling as Joe’s fingernails are dragged over his skin, it’s so amazing, the anger is leaving John’s body and gives room for something soft and tender. Somehow he manages to kneel up and pull Joe into his lap without losing contact, kissing him and brushing his hair out of his face. 

"Is it good?" he asks, and Joe nods and kisses him back, wrapping his arms around John’s neck and awkwardly starting to ride him. John helps him, guiding the depth and the speed and the angle, tilting Joe’s hips, and the boy squeals onto his lips as those wonderful places deep inside of him are stroked all over and over-

"That’s it, baby boy, let go of that voice for me," John growls into Joe's ear, licking his earlobe and running his hands all over him before holding onto him tightly, laying his head on Joe's chest and feeling his rapid heartbeat; and Joe does, and John’s listening to the contrast in the sound of their voices, his own husky grunting mingled with Joe’s higher pitched cries, the smoothness of Joe’s sweaty skin against his chest hair, the slender young body sliding against his thicker, older one. 

"Yes, c’mon, ride me faster," John moans, and Joe holds onto his nape and rocks his hips in his lap and babbles to him, John doesn’t quite understand what through the rush of blood in his ears-

Everything Joe does makes him go crazy.

Joe, small little Joe…

"John-" Joe gasps suddenly and stops, his hands tightening on John's shoulders, "John, stop, it's— it's too much, ah— too much-"

It takes a second for Joe's words to sink in, even as the boy's pushing weakly on his shoulders.

"Okay— okay," John gasps, pulling himself together for a second and lifting Joe off his lap, and Joe holds onto him tightly, panting and whimpering. "Are you in pain?"

"No— it was just… a lot," Joe sniffs into his neck. "Sorry, I'm sorry-"

John pulls him close, soothingly stroking his back, taking a few deep breaths. "Overwhelming?"

"Yeah, yeah— sorry-"

"Shh, it's okay, it's okay," John whispers, caressing Joe's hips, and Joe sighs and relaxes. "Your pleasure comes first."

"Can we continue like this?" Joe asks insecurely after a while, tentatively pressing his cock against John's, and John kisses him. 

"If you want to," he murmurs, stroking the boy's back, and Joe pulls the condom off and taking both of them in his hand.

John moans as they begin a gentler, slower rhythm.

Joe whimpers and pants and moves softly in his lap, his face buried in John's neck, his body is scorching hot and the ridges of his ribs are so sharp… John lets out a trembling sigh against his skin because he understands it now, the whole of this is so _much…_

"Look at me," John asks then, tenderly lifting up Joe’s chin, and Joe obeys below thick eyelashes, and John's taken aback by the vulnerable teenage features, the lust and pleasure in those eyes, begging for an orgasm…

And underneath all that, in the deep there’s a strong, burning love he’s only ever seen in the eyes of two people.

It rips into him like a sword in his chest.

It lasts for a few seconds before Joe closes his eyes and whimpers, pushing his cock harder against John’s, and John's hand covers Joe's around the both of them, hearing Joe's soft chanting of _gonna come…_

John growls, stroking faster.

"Joe—"

That name is the only word that exists in the universe, and Joe gasps and spurts, shooting up to John’s neck, and John’s watching Joe’s face twisting in a pleasure that's still new to him, he's burning the image into his memory forever as he helps him ride it out; he thrusts against him a few more times before letting himself come undone as well, panting into the boy's soft neck.

_Joe, Joe._

He comes round pressed against his godson, both of them panting. 

"I’m sorry, I’m sorry," John keeps whispering, he doesn't even realize, and Joe is shivering as he curls into a ball.

"Are you okay?" John asks, worried and feeling off.

Joe shakes his head, tears flowing from his eyes.

"What’s wrong?" John sits up, the blood freezing in his veins, frantically tapping along Joe’s hip and butt. "Does it hurt, did I injure you? Oh Christ-"

Joe’s lips are trembling as he shakes his head again, and John covers them with the blanket and takes him in his arms, and Joe burrows his face in his neck. "Come here. Come here, little fox. What’s wrong? Our fight?"

"You really think I could betray you?"

The boy's voice is weak, and John pauses.

Yes. He was scared about that, on sleepless nights, in his darkest fears. Not because Joe is a traitor, but because he’s young and unguarded. 

But no, Joe is smart. Way too smart, even if his heart wants things it shouldn't.

"Of course I don't think that."

"I’m a freak—"

"Oh, no," John says, pulling him close and murmuring in his hair as Joe’s voice breaks. "No, you’re not, you’re perfect. You’re my lovely Joe, you always will be. My perfect, smart little Joe."

"I wanna— I want to be with you… I want to be near you. Don't leave, let's be together. Be with me—"

The amount of begging in Joe's voice is suffocating, his forehead is fiery and hot under John's hand as they lock eyes, there’s the destruction of eons in his eyes.

"Darling… You know I can't. You know… you’re young, you have to go back home and study. And I— I live here, in Europe. My kids are here. I can't—" The pain is strong, it makes John's voice fade, the whole weight of despair is pressing down on him as he's watching Joe let out a sob and rub his eyes with the back of his hand. "We can't. I want… I wish we could— but it's— it's impossible, you know it is-"

“Can’t you— just—” Joe searching for the words, his face twisted in agony and hopeless hope. “Just leave her— I’ll be here, she doesn’t love you like you need-”

“Joe, Joe…” John tries to shush him, but his voice is betraying him, he can only hold onto him with all his might. “Joe, I can’t leave my children. Please, understand this…”

"I know, I-I know this is wrong," Joe cries like he’s got endless amount of tears, the contours of his body blurred by John's own tears. "I know but I can’t help it, I can’t, I— I feel like dying-"

John presses his lips against his red little cheek, softly, in case Joe wants to pull away, but he doesn’t, he kisses John’s mouth even as his sobs are shaking his body.

"Sssh, it’s okay, Joe," John murmurs, wiping his boy’s tears off while Joe looks like his whole world has fallen apart. "It’s okay, please don't cry. You’ll be fine, it’s okay."

"Will you be fine, too?" Joe sniffs, naively like the kid he is, and John really wants to spit into his own face.

"Yes." He kisses Joe’s hair as he lies to him. "Yes, I’ll be good, don’t worry. I’ll be good. We’ll be good."

Joe looks at him, all the world’s pain in his expression before kissing him again softly, his lips hot and wet, and John strokes his hair.

They lie together in silence for a long time, and John doesn't even feel his hands getting pins and needles by the force he holds Joe to himself.

He's dizzy, and his mind is somewhere else. 

Scenes from another life. 

Little Joe having a nightmare when staying at their place, showing up in their bedroom with his stuffed animal, asking to let him sleep there with him and Ronnie. John lifting the covers and Joe hopping in, comfortably nestling himself between them.

A word is on his mind, popping up out of nowhere.

Teeny tiny baby Joe, who wouldn't stop crying until John held him in his arms and sang to him. Those big eyes clearing up then, staring up at him in wonderment. _"I guess he's_ your _son from now on,"_ Joseph said, exhausted and slightly jealous, but happy nonetheless.

Joe biting his finger with his first tooth. "Joseph, our son is teething," John yelled as Joseph and Ginnie laughed their arses off.

One word.

Little Joe always weeping when they had to separate, breaking John’s heart every time.

_Soulmate._

He’s watching the light dancing among the tree leaves outside, he’s listening to the sounds of the birds, the wind bending the giant trees; and Joe nestles closer to him, his chest rising and sinking with every breath as John quietly, tenderly starts singing into his hair.

 _The fox went out on a chilly night,_ _  
_ _he prayed to the Moon to give him light,_ _  
_ _for he'd many a mile to go that night_ _  
_ _before he reached the town-o, town-o, town-o..._

 

* * *

 

 _… He ran till he came to a great big bin_ _  
_ _where the ducks and the geese were put therein._ _  
_ _"A couple of you will grease my chin_ _  
_ _before I leave this town-o, town-o, town-o.”_

The quiet melody from the mobile above the baby bed fills the room, the wind of spring gently swooshes the curtains.

"My beautiful darlings."

John’s lovingly watching his two little loaves, lost in the sight of them. 

Josh is sleeping soundly, occasionally twitching and squelching in his dream, and John adjusts his blanket.

The other baby is Joe. He’s not asleep, he doesn't sleep much as if he were afraid he’ll miss something out of this new, exciting world; and he’s staring up at John, tittering and gurgling with his tiny, toothless mouth, melting John's heart.

"Yes, you are so beautiful, strong and healthy, like my son here, see?" John coos, blowing a soft raspberry on Joe’s round little baby tummy, and Joe giggles. "You and Josh are going to get along so well. Look at you two, even your hair color is the same."

"Ge-ge-ge," Joe agrees, and John chuckles at him. He’s so cute it almost makes him angry. 

"Yeah, do you think so, too?" John asks, gently stroking the baby’s soft, downy hair. He pretends to nibble Joe’s foot, and the baby bursts out in laughter. "Yes, you're going to be great friends with Josh, and with my other children, too. They love you so much."

Joe wobbles his legs and arms in his onesie, his eyes twinkling as he titters at John, and John’s love for him is burning his chest. His two beautiful sons… He shakes his head as he smiles. He almost forgets from time to time that Joe is not his own.

"Look at you, stolen everyone’s heart. You’re going to be a great entertainer one day, you already are, and you can’t even talk yet. You’re going to be loved and known, and do amazing things." He caresses the baby’s chubby cheek with the back of a finger, and Joe stares at him wide-eyed. "The world will fall at your feet. I’ve already fallen."

"Da-da-da-da?" Joe asks, reaching for John's puffy perm, and John leans his head down to tickle him with it, and Joe’s squealing giggle rises higher up the scale.

"Shh, sweetheart, don’t wake up Josh," John whispers, letting Joe grab his finger with his tiny hands. "I promise I’ll be by your side when you need me. I love you."

Joe bounces excitedly as if he understood him, and he and John keep staring into each other’s eyes, enchanted.

 

* * *

 

 _… He ran till he came to his cozy den;_ _  
_ _there were the little ones eight, nine, ten._ _  
_ _They said, "Daddy, better go back again,_ _  
_ _'cause it must be a mighty fine town-o, town-o, town-o!"_

 

"John?"

Joe’s thin little voice is coming from between the pillows.

John has to leave early in the morning, and he came to say goodbye to Joe, talk to him once more. The room is dark, only a tortoise-shaped lamp is illuminating the figure of the child.

He’s small, his eyes huge and shining, his red kid lips smiling up at John as he checks upon him.

"Hello, Joey. Are you feeling better?"

"A bit…"

His little forehead is burning though. He’ll tell Ginnie that he still has a fever and needs some medicine. It’s nothing serious, hopefully. Just some stray virus.

"Are you staying?"

John ruffles the soft red hair, gently pressing a kiss to the top of the kid’s head.

"I have to leave soon, sweetheart, I’m sorry. Ronnie is waiting for me, and Josh is missing me."

"Oh. Okay." Joe’s lips are pouting slightly. "Can we meet again soon?"

John chuckles. Joe’s adorable, looking up at him with dark, glistening eyes, hope written on his face. "I’ll visit you again soon."

"How soon?" Joe kneels up in the bed, wrapping his arms around John’s neck, and John holds him by the waist as the boy almost disappears in his arms. He's so cute in his blue car pyjamas, and John’s love and tenderness he’s always felt for Joe is flooding him. It still feels as if he got an extra son from life together with his own.

"I don't know, little one. I have to go and visit a friend. I’ll send you letters, and you can write me back, okay?"

"Will you call me too?"

"Yes, I will." John smiles, hugging the boy close, and Joe holds onto his neck, giggling as John gently tickles him.

"You promise?"

"I promise." John closes his eyes, feeling Joe’s rapid kid heartbeat, smelling his scent of shampoo and cough syrup. "Now go to sleep, okay? You have to get well soon so you can play and act again."

Joe gets out of the embrace, but still holds onto John's neck, looking at him seriously, furrowing his brows as if considering something.

"What is it?" John smiles.

Joe leans ahead and steals a kiss from John’s still smiling lips.

It’s very chaste and very short, it lasts for maybe a second, but John freezes, petrified. He gently presses the boy away.

"What are you doing-?"

The fever is burning Joe’s cheeks.

"Ronnie always kisses you and- you like kisses and I wanted to kiss you too."

"Joey-" John exhales, smiling slowly at the child's serious look, his heart bursting with love at his sweet innocence. However, he has to teach him decency. "Thank you, you're very sweet. But you can’t do this with me. You can only kiss someone on the lips when you’re a grown-up, someone who you love."

Joe's eyes are twinkling.

"But I love you-"

"I love you too, but you mustn't do this to me. It’s inappropriate." John gently but firmly holds the kid’s shoulders, and Joe casts down his eyes like guilty children do. John lifts his chin. "Do you understand?"

Joe nods, and John gently lays him down, tucking him in. 

His little godson’s fever kiss, wanting to make him happy. The initial astonishment has faded, and he smiles.

"Did I do wrong?" Joe’s voice is thin and insecure.

"Of course not. But next time only kiss my cheek, okay?" Joe nods and John ruffles his hair. "I’ll visit you soon, okay?"

"Okay, goddad." Joe takes his stuffed bunny from John’s hand as John presses a kiss on his forehead. "Can you sing for me before you leave?"

John smiles.

"Oh, sweetheart, I can't really sing."

Joe's eyes are even bigger in his face than before. "I know you can! You did it a long time ago."

"You remember? You were a tiny baby." John pats his head. 

"Please?"

"Okay, if you want."

John thinks for a few seconds before starting a folk song about a red fox he remembers from his own childhood. He’s a bit self-conscious that his voice is flat but Joe doesn't mind, he falls asleep almost immediately, holding the sleeve of John's shirt.

 _… Then the fox and his wife without any strife_ _  
_ _cut up the goose with a fork and knife._  
_They never had such a supper in their life_  
_and the little ones chewed on the bones-o, bones-o, bones-o._

 

* * *

 

But he didn't visit.

Because Freddie happened, and he had small children as comfort, and he was too busy with them and his mental health and his grief and his marriage, and he managed to forget about that tiny kiss. 

Maybe he ran away.

Maybe he realized for a split second that it never was the fever.

And he had never acknowledged how much he hurt Joe.

In the early eighties, John just took off his wedding ring, thinking nothing of it. Somehow it felt off and irritating, he didn't even know why-

_My fingers are getting thicker. I'm taking the ring to the jeweler to get it resized soon._

But he never did.

Because of Joe. He was the reason even back then, and he realizes it at this very second as his eyes flick open and his heart almost stops.

 

Joe has calmed down after a while as John was singing to him.

His breathing is slow and even, maybe he’s even snoozing.

John’s just slowly rubbing his face against Joe’s skin, inhaling his scent, memorizing it deeply.

He'll never forget the boy's smell. How different it is from his baby scent in those old days. How similar it is to that now. 

Joe wakes up and turns towards him, and they look into each other's eyes in silence, John caressing the boy’s face.

But then they really have to leave, and the fresh soil is soft under John's feet as they’re heading home, Joe's hands are strong yet strangely childish in John’s grip. 

Not many words are exchanged, only the most necessary ones, and they occasionally stop to look at the view over the mountains or listen to a bird.

They reach a creek, and Joe smiles at him invitingly as he lets John's hand go, following the sound of a waterfall, and John following the boy, drawn to him like a magnet.

"Let's go in," Joe says, he’s seemingly cheered up a little, already taking off his shirt and his shorts and kicking his shoes off.

John thinks. They should be leaving, but a little bathing can't hurt. 

He can't stop staring at the shapes that the sunlight and the shadows of the leaves paint onto Joe's skin. Joe smiles at him, a little tauntingly, like he were wondering why John is acting so slowly. 

John puts down their backpack and strips to his underwear, following Joe into the stream, and the boy is running and swimming away from him. 

"Catch me," he chuckles, and John goes after him like so many times before, laughing and sneezing when water gets into his nose, and Joe dives under to grab John's knees.

John catches him and takes him in his arms, like on that blissful first day, and the sunlight is running between Joe's fingers and the summer is dancing in his body and John holds him close.

Joe stares at his face, millions of emotions in his eyes.

"I’m sorry I bit you," he whispers finally, tenderly stroking John’s bruised lips. 

John closes his eyes as he shakes his head, kissing the boy briefly.

Time stands still again as Joe is hugging him, and John watches the droplets on his face and the wind kissing his wet hair, and his eyes, greener than the forest, and his lips, sweet and luscious like a forest berry, and his sigh on John's lips is the spirit of the mountain itself.

"Beautiful."

Joe laughs at his word, head thrown back, his voice is full of longing and disbelief and love. 

John wants to tell him something, but he's unable to. Words are so inadequate and insufficient, and Joe has questions in his eyes, but neither of them speaks the words.

Maybe they don't need to.

Joe smiles, pulling John underneath that small waterfall, and the pressure is cold on his back but Joe's body pressed against his front is warm and ever-burning, and Joe is all over him, once again, maybe for the last time. He hugs the boy tightly who’s squeezing him back, holding onto each other, John's lips on Joe's neck, and Joe bares his throat for him, letting John drag his tongue over the sinews and the Adam's apple and the tender stubble. 

Joe moans, the sound vibrating under John's lips, and Joe's fingers are slipping under John's wet underwear and digging into his arse, and Joe is slowly taking their cocks out, the water ice cold on their heated skin. John pushes the boy against a rock, away from the flow of water, and Joe wraps himself around him like he never wants to let him go. 

"Goddad," Joe's low, grumbling voice in his ear is so dirty, yet the purest thing ever, "please- please-"

"What is it, little fox?" John whispers, kissing the slender neck, tasting the flawless skin. "What do you need? I'll do anything my little darling wants..." 

There are endless kisses and helpless groping and fingers sinking into flesh, and Joe's arms tighten around John. 

"I don't want the last time to be… like _that._ So take me again," he whispers, licking John's upper lip, "take me, fuck me raw-"

John groans as he takes the boy's lips between his, getting high on his taste once again. "You sure?"

"Yes…"

Joe's voice is mingling with the sound of the water, and John can't say no. He simply can't say no, and he doesn't ask anything else and doesn't resist. 

It seems like he can't get enough, no matter how many times they make love.

He looks in the boy's eyes, his parted lips and twinkling face, his flawless beauty. Such a willing, pure soul, all his, his to enjoy, his to savour-

He puts his palm in front of Joe's lips. "Spit," he whispers, and the boy obeys. John collects his saliva and he spits too, reaching for Joe's entrance, already familiar yet still so new, opening him up and preparing him, quickly yet agonizingly slowly, listening to Joe’s moans, the trembling of his flesh.

"Hold onto me, and don't let go," John whispers then, and Joe's arms and legs wrap around him.

Joe's eyes are clouded, his skin is covered in goosebumps when John lifts him up and pushes him against a moss-covered rock, he's heavy but it doesn't matter, nothing matters but Joe's moans, loud in his ears, and Joe's cock, hard against his stomach, and Joe's throat, exposed and vulnerable, fluttering under his lips in a groan as John slowly lowers him down…

So hot, so burning hot around him, in contrast of how cool the skin is. John whimpers as he’s embraced by Joe's unsheathed heat, the closeness more intimate than any experience they've shared so far.

_I’ll do anything you want…_

Joe’s face is buried in his neck, and the boy whimpers softly.

“Is it good, love?” John whispers breathlessly, and Joe nods, his lips sucking on John’s neck, but it’s okay. It’s all okay.

Tiny, tiny movements, slowly burning lust, and John rocks his hips gently, dizzy with the heat, basking in Joe's perfection, savouring, memorizing his feel. The curve of his ear. The constellations of freckles on his shoulder. The golden-fiery sun rays of hair. The beautiful creature halfway into adulthood, the strength he holds onto him with, the small rocking of his hips back against John's…

"God, you feel fantastic," John groans, mindlessly mouthing Joe's neck, his fingers digging into his hips, and Joe's arms are trembling around his shoulders. "Oh Joe, I want to be inside you like this forever-"

"Ahh- yes, please, let’s stay like this…" Joe moans, voice hoarse and deep now, almost like an adult's. "stay in me, fill me-"

John wants that too like nothing else, he wants to crawl under Joe's skin, fill him all the way up, to the tips of his fingers, the tips of his toes, get inside his mind and his soul, feel his young blood circulating in his own veins, resonate with his heartbeat like it was his own, and he feels too much for him, he wants him so much, he loves-

Joe suddenly gasps and moans, and then there's warmth splashing onto John's chest, and John feels him clenching and pulling him with him like his pleasure was his own. He comes soon after, deep, deep inside of his godson, marking him, making him his, holding him up with his last strength as he releases and pulsates, and Joe lets out a weak cry, throwing his head back and spurting again, his body tight and burning.

John slowly puts him down then but doesn't let go, and Joe stands on trembling legs. 

Two heaving chests colliding with every panting breath, legs twined and bodies burnt together and faces touching, searching each other's eyes, tender smiles covering deep despair.

"John, I-" Joe says, stroking John's cheeks as John strokes his, his eyes moving over his features, his lips parted. "I-," he says again, and John holds his breath, anticipating…

Anticipating what he himself wanted to say. 

"I will miss us," Joe says finally as the waterfall is cleansing their bodies.

That's the moment when John knows if they have to fall, they're going to fall together.

 

He’s following Joe, his red hair that’s like a lighthouse in the dark, the fallen leaves cracking under his feet, the grass tickling his calves, the sun burning his nape.

The birds are chirping and the bees are buzzing and the sweat stings his eyes, and John’s wheezing, pulling the collar of his shirt away from his neck.

The sounds of nature are mocking him.

The trees are whispering, the wind is judging, condemning.

Everything is otherworldly sharp.

The sunlight is too intense, every piece of grass cuts, every pebble stabs-

Suddenly he's gasping for air, his mouth is dry like a desert, his heart is racing violently in his chest, his stomach burns with a dark red and black and blunt and warm and suffocating pain, and his knees give out-

There's a swirl of tree leaves as he spins around his own axis, and the leaves are cracking under his fingers and soil gets under his fingernails, everything is stone-gray and moor-brown and grass-green and he gasps for air, the sound of birds blending into the thumping noise in his ears, his chest tightens and maybe this is the end and the faces of his children are blurry and they are so far away-

But if this is the end, he must see Joe one last time, and he groans as his numb hands are slipping on rocks and his fingernails are breaking, and there are tears, cold, burning, sticky tears on his face, he's whining like an animal as he's searching for Joe but can't see him-

It goes dark.

 

_Oh, John, you poor, poor man. You have really believed that you can have both worlds. You've fallen into the trap again._

I don't want to choose again…

_You committed a sin. Sins come with punishments._

I couldn't help it. I tried to resist. God knows I tried!

_You committed a sin, and you thought you won’t have to face the truth and make a decision. But you can't have both worlds. You’ve always known this, knew this thirty years ago, knew it this time._

I did a bad thing. I know I did. But what can I do when I love him? We love each other!

_Love? It doesn’t matter. Joe is not an adult, and no matter how much he loves you, you shouldn't have slept with him._

But he wants it. And enjoys it. And he said he wants more!

_He's too young and inexperienced. He’s confused. He doesn’t love the way you do, he doesn’t know how adult love works._

But he’s of age. He knows what he wants.

_You committed a sin when you slept with him and promised him a future._

I did not—

_You knew he expects it from you. You knew deep down that it wasn’t only about sex, not for you, and definitely not for him, no matter how much you’ve both denied it. It was never just about sex. How long have you known this?_

I love him…

_It doesn't mean anything. You never should have touched him._

Why was he sent to me then?

_He wasn’t…_

Why was my soulmate sent to me if I can't have him?!

_What if he’s not your soulmate? Perhaps you just dreamt it up._

Why was he made to be my soulmate??

_What will happen if Joe falls out of love with you? That’s very likely. But think of Ronnie… She’s always been there and always will be, if you want her to._

Ronnie… She doesn't know me. She doesn’t accept me.

_Of course she's not perfect, but she’s stuck with you, for decades. You can never know how Joe would feel for you when he grows up. What if this is still some kind of twisted puppy love? What if he will regret it later?_

No. He won’t...

_You don't know how deep it really goes. Hell, you don't even know what yourself are feeling. And what if Ronnie finds out? She could take your children. And you risked all you had for him, for a puppy love?_

No…

_His heart might change any time. What if he will regret it, regret that he gave himself to an old man? That he gave himself to you?_

No, please. He won’t. I know he won’t, he loves me. I love him.

_Look at yourself. You’re old and pathetic, you’re wounded and you're still haunted by ghosts, using a kid to make you feel free again, and when this is over, all you’ll have left are your fantasies. You filthy old man. How would the world perceive you and him together? Joe doesn't need that. He must not be wanting that. He needs his name clean, he needs his career, he loves acting, acting is his life, how will he find jobs if he’s seen as his godfather’s boy toy?_

Stop…

_What will Ronnie say? What will his parents think of him? They will be mad at him. Your children will despise him. His siblings will be disgusted. He's so young, how will he ever be able to recover from this?_

Please, stop…

_What have you done, John?_

No…

_WHAT HAVE YOU DONE?_

 

Joe's voice is faint even though he’s shouting, and Joe's hand is on his shoulder, and John opens his eyes. He’s on his knees, watching as drop after drop lands on the back of his hand and disappears among the grass, he hears something that might be his own name but it doesn't make sense, he's sobbing and dying-

And Joe's hand is on his forehead, cool and trembling, wiping the sweat off, Joe's tapping for the bottle in John's backpack and John's kneeling in soil, the water is lukewarm on his lips and it tastes like nothingness-

He holds onto Joe, gasping for air and crying, and there's Joe's body wrapping around him, warm and shaking as John buries his face in Joe's t-shirt, crying and sobbing and begging him not to leave-

Joe's voice is chanting above his head, “look at me, look at me,” his trembling hands are trying to lift John’s chin but John can't bring himself to look at him, he couldn't stand to see the fright and sadness in those young eyes, not even for a single second. 

"Don't want to- don't- don't wanna lose you-" John is weeping into Joe's chest, "can't lose them either- please don't leave, I need my fox- need my little fox, please- " 

Joe is also crying above him, breathing fast like a bird, "John, John, what should I do, what should-"

John cries with ugly, hoarse sobs, his fingers are ice cold as they are grabbing clothes, and Joe holds onto him as John's gasping for air sharply.

 

The nasty fear is slowly, agonizingly slowly fading, giving room to a blunt, empty void with only exhaustion and despair inside it as they are kneeling in the grass.

They will have to fall.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The song about the fox is from [here](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Fox_\(folk_song\)).
> 
> Did you like this chapter? What do you think of John's dream? How do you think Joe will take that they can't be together?

**Author's Note:**

> Check out [ this fantastic moodboard](https://deakys-chesthair.tumblr.com/post/188049852028/forbidden-moodboard) @binkyisonline made for this fic on tumblr.
> 
> Also check out [this awesome fanart](https://painkiller80.tumblr.com/post/187486819775/deakys-chesthair-just-so-you-you-made-me-cry) as well as [this one](https://deakys-chesthair.tumblr.com/post/188808247508/painkiller80-i-may-have-did-a-thingagain) by @painkiller80 for chapters 7 and 8!
> 
> And here's [ @femtactis-nl's](https://deakys-chesthair.tumblr.com/post/188700411913/another-amazing-fanart-for-forbidden-by-lovely) as well! <3
> 
> And the Cherry on top:  
> [Binky's art of them](https://binkyisonline.tumblr.com/post/190630769501/john-leans-over-joe-growling-tenderly-in-his)! Hhhhhhh!
> 
> You guys are the best. Amazing! 💕


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